


I Thee Wed

by oviparous



Series: I Thee Wed [1]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artists, Eventual Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Musicians, Romance, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 11:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12168132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oviparous/pseuds/oviparous
Summary: Nino, freelance musician and gamer extraordinaire, attends his best friend's wedding and finds himself contemplating marriage. He's scared as hell, but tries to figure it out with the help of his friends, though he doesn't really know where to start--until he meets Aiba.Warnings: Guys are all in their late, late 30s. Yama is married (to each other). Jun is married (with children) to an OC I based off a real person. Also contains quite a few classical music references because three of the guys majored in music (while the other two went the fine arts route).





	1. I Thee Wed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sho and Ohno's wedding makes Nino realise he wants to get married too. Jun sheds some light on what child-rearing is really like. Nino asks for Sho's advice on being ready for a serious relationship.

The air was wrought with anticipation. One of the two photographers rushed to the altar, kneeling right by the officiant to capture the defining moment of the ceremony, while the people at the back craned their necks, hoping to catch a better glimpse of what was about to unfold.

The newlyweds, having been pronounced husband and husband, gave each other small, meaningful nods; Sho then faced the guests, looking apologetic.

“I’ve never kissed anyone in front of my parents, and I don’t intend to start now,” said Sho, most of his guests joining in his laughter, “so we’re just going to hug, if that’s okay.”

There were murmurs of approval accompanied by a round of applause, quickly and politely silenced by the officiant, and the congregation watched as Ohno waited for a beat, then slipped his hands into Sho’s to pull him closer; he whispered something that no one but Sho could hear, making Sho hide his smile past Ohno’s cheek as their arms circled each other.

The guests erupted into applause, and Nino clapped as hard as he could, genuinely happy for Sho and his husband; though at the same time there was a certain sense of malaise brewing deep in his gut, a feeling that took him a while to name.

It was envy, and it was new to Nino.

Nino was 38, a year and a half younger than Sho, whom he’d met doing his postgrad at the Tsujii Conservatory of Music. Sho’s husband Ohno—wow, it was _husband_ now—was about a year older than Sho, and Nino found him equal parts mysterious and adorable. He was based in New York, and Nino had only met him once prior to the wedding, when he’d gone to Boston to visit Sho. Over pizza and wine he discovered Ohno was a man of few words—until drunk.

Nino hadn’t felt like this back then, but seeing Sho and Ohno now, so radiantly happy and comfortable in their bliss, Nino suddenly understood why he was feeling awful.

He wanted what they had.

***

There were some things Nino was willing to admit he loved: music, gaming, and the people who loved him, which basically consisted of his family, and Jun and Sho. Now that both Jun and Sho were married, however, Nino supposed his love extended to their spouses and children as well.

“Nino!” came a high-pitched squeal, and Nino looked away from the hors d’oeuvres to see Hirari, Jun’s youngest, bounding towards him, successfully photobombing a group shot and tripping a waiter.

“Whoa, slow down.” Nino knelt to catch her as she held out her arms, but he didn’t pick her up. “Where’s your mum and dad?”

“I don’t know,” said Hirari, and as he drew out his phone to text Jun, Nino couldn’t help but laugh; he knew how Jun loved being in control, and it was funny to think about how much that had changed in the past ten years, what with having four kids but just two hands.

 _I have your child_ , Nino typed, as Hirari held his hand and dragged him towards the carpeted aisle that Sho and Ohno had walked on, wanting to pick up confetti.

Jun’s reply came almost instantly.

_Which one?_

This time Nino actually burst out laughing, and he asked Hirari to pose before snapping her picture. He praised her for her excellent peace sign (she’d been raising three fingers the last time he saw her) and sent out the photo.

 _Cool. Wanna join our search party for Kento?_ was Jun’s reply.

“Come on.” Nino scooped Hirari up into his arms. “Let’s go find your brother.”

Jun and Nino had been flatmates and classmates when they were in university, where they'd both been composition majors. Jun went on to become a high school teacher after graduation; Nino didn’t know what to do with his life, so he decided to further his studies at another (more prestigious) college.

Having to helm the school’s concert band was part of Jun’s job, and one day he asked Nino if he knew of anyone who could coach his terrible clarinet section; Nino recommended Sho, who was performing for a local orchestra while teaching clarinet on the side.

Jun and Sho became fast friends, and within a year the clarinets were good enough to clinch the gold in a regional ensemble competition. Jun’s students idolised Sho, and Sho was subsequently introduced to a lot of music teachers who also wanted to improve their terrible clarinets.

Sometime later, Sho survived a truly horrific motor accident that almost cost him a leg; feeling like he’d been given a second chance at living, he started auditioning for foreign orchestras, finally taking a chance on his childhood dream. He ended up qualifying for most of them, desperate overachiever that he was, and was torn between Lisbon and London when a position opened up in Boston, a place he’d visited and loved.

Jun wasn’t too happy that his go-to clarinet guy was leaving for America with no concrete plans to return, but his displeasure, in true Jun fashion, became fuel for a more personal relationship with Sho—for the five years that Sho had been in Boston, Jun was the one who made sure they all kept in touch, and he had video-called Sho even more regularly than Nino did.

“Look, a grumpy-faced dragon from outer space!” Nino pointed to Jun as they found him first; Hirari didn’t get the joke and poked her head higher in the air to search for said dragon. Nino found it very charming.

“Excellent parenting, Matsumoto,” called Nino as they approached, and Jun waved his comment away.

“It’s a villa, the furthest they can go are the walls. Besides, they should be allowed to play without us hovering over them,” said Jun, holding out his hands to Hirari, who shook her head and buried her face in Nino’s neck.

“Awesome.” Jun grinned. “Guess someone’s on babysitting duty.”

“Sure, but can you afford my hourly rate?”

“Nino, I’ve treated you to enough meals for you to owe me for life.” Jun cupped Nino’s elbow. “Walk with me, I need to find Kento.”

Nino adjusted Hirari’s position against his chest and took a few steps forward. “Where’s your wife?”

“She’s with Dan. He needed to poop but was scared of going to the toilets alone, and he only wanted mama.”

Nino laughed. “Why do kids _do_ that?”

“No clue.”

They exited the restaurant area, passing pockets of guests as they walked, some of whom they recognised and waved at. Hirari eventually got tired of Nino and whined for her mother, who was obviously unavailable, before settling for Jun. She then proceeded to fall asleep in his arms as they wove through the crowd that teemed the courtyard.

Sho and Ohno had invited a _lot_ of people. But then Sho was sort of famous, and so were his parents, so that was probably why.

“Oh! Found your firstborn,” said Nino, pointing at the tan, skinny girl in the sleeveless powder blue dress. She was tall for a fourth-grader, standing a head above most of the other kids as they grouped by the fountain. They were playing some kind of tag, as evidenced by how their circle quickly broke up after a round of rock-paper-scissors.

Jun made a dismissive noise in his throat. “Ria’s big enough to be on her own.”

Nino drew back, marvelling. “Jun-kun, is that you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re so _okay_ with your kids running amok.”

“They don't run amok, Nino. I’d like to think they’re pretty well-behaved.”

“Yeah, but the Jun-kun I know would put trackers on his kids and sync them to his phone.”

“I’ve thought about it, not gonna lie.”

“Before Ria was born you actually said you’d do it. But you haven’t, and that fascinates me.”

“When you’re a parent…” Jun trailed off as he spotted something. “Nino, could you go look around that giant plant? Kento’s been liking to hide in small spaces.”

Nino went ahead to check, but there was no child between the potted plant and the wall.

“Why are you looking for him, anyway?” asked Nino as they climbed some steps to enter the pool area. “I thought you said kids should be able to play without adult supervision.”

“No, I said they should be able to play without their parents breathing down their necks. Parents should always know where their kids are, and adult supervision is definitely preferred.”

“So why do you not know where your kids are?”

“Oh, Nino.” Jun gave Nino a tired smile. “Picture this: our family’s with Sho-kun and Ohno-kun, seizing the only chance we have today to congratulate them because they have five hundred other people to meet. Soo-jung has the boys, one in each hand, and they’re getting bored, so they start to pretend-fight, which doesn’t stay pretend for long. Hirari gets hot in the cardigan she insisted on putting on despite it being summer, so she starts struggling to get out of my arms, and I put her down, making sure that we’re holding hands. Ria interrupts the conversation very properly to ask for permission to hang out with some kids she met earlier, and when she plays her Best Behaviour card like that I can’t possibly say no, so she leaves, and Dan sees Ria go so he wants to go too, and Soo-jung says he can, since Ria and Dan don’t mind each other that much. Kento naturally wants to follow Dan, but Dan shouts at him not to come because Kento is still in kindergarten and therefore an embarrassment. Soo-jung doesn’t stand for this kind of behaviour and decides it’s only fair that Kento gets to go and play, so she excuses herself and brings Kento to wherever the kids are playing, and I finish up the conversation with Sho-kun and Ohno-kun only to turn around and find that Hirari’s gone, and Soo-jung’s back with Dan who needs to go poo-poo, and she asks if I could go watch Kento who’s playing with the kids near the fountain, then gets upset when I tell her Hirari’s gone. She tells me to go look for Hirari, and as I do I pass the fountain and check on Ria and Kento, and I don’t see Kento so I ask Ria where he is. Ria says he followed Soo-jung and Dan, 'didn’t you see them Papa', and I’m low-key panicking, and then you text me, and I am reminded once again that there is a God.”

Nino laughed, sympathy welling within him. He may have felt a little envious of Sho and Ohno, but he certainly wasn’t envious of Jun.

“I’m not trying to make excuses,” Jun went on, “and I know what you’re driving at—it’s just that it doesn’t help being too much of a perfectionist when you’re trying to parent, and I’ve realised that it’s okay even if things don’t meet my expectations. It’s been easier on my kids, if not on myself.”

They finished skirting the parameter of the pool area, Kento nowhere in sight, and Nino suggested they go back to the courtyard; they could have missed him, given the number of people there.

“For what it’s worth,” said Nino, following Jun down the steps, “I think you’ve changed for the better. You were nice before, but I swear you’re nicer now.”

“I’m sorry I can’t offer you a similar compliment,” said Jun over his shoulder, “you’ve remained the same little shit I met twenty years ago.”

“Did you just use a bad word on me? I know your daughter is sleeping, but still.”

“Well, in the Matsumoto household, we value honesty.” 

Nino was about to retort when he spotted something happening deep in the crowd. “Isn’t that Kento?” He pointed as he saw the four-year-old being hoisted in the air and onto the shoulders of someone; Kento was twisting his head around, searching for, presumably, his parents. His vantage point was provided by a man of reasonable height, and although Nino couldn’t see his face, he noticed he had very nice forearms.

“Wave to him,” said Jun, his arms full with Hirari, and Nino did.

“Kento!” Nino called, and they saw Kento bounce excitedly on the man’s shoulders before they all started making their way to each other.

It wasn’t until they came face to face that they realised the guy who’d picked Kento up was one of the photographers, and Jun started apologising for causing him trouble whilst he was in the middle of work.

“Oh, not at all,” said the man brightly, “I was taking a picture of him when I realised he was alone. He wasn’t crying or anything, but I figured his parents were looking for him.”

“God, yes. Hang on, I gotta tell my wife we found him,” said Jun, pulling out his phone. Kento was peering up at Jun, trying to read Jun’s expression to see if he was going to get into major trouble.

“We’ve been looking for you, Kento-kun,” said Nino, getting onto his haunches to look Kento in the eye, “where did you go?”

“I went exploring,” said Kento simply.

“Why didn’t you go back to Ria?”

“I didn’t like her game.”

“Okay, so where did you go?”

“I was playing my own game. I hid under the horse,” answered Kento before pointing to the photographer, “then he found me, so he won.”

“The horse?” asked Nino, throwing the photographer a puzzled look.

“You guys know there’s a Pegasus statue over there?” said the photographer, pointing to a spot that was masked by the crowd. “It’s a little small, so you can’t see it from here.”

“I get what you mean when you said he likes to hide,” said Nino to Jun.

Jun sighed, then gave the photographer a bow. “Thank you so much for finding him.”

“No problem. Well, I gotta go take pictures of the family, the speeches are about to start—”

“Wait,” Kento interrupted, “you won, so you need a prize.” Kento stuck a hand in his pocket before coming up with two rubber bands, a five-yen coin, and a length of rainbow-coloured tinsel. He gave the tinsel to the man.

“Neat,” said the photographer, beaming as he twisted the tinsel round his camera strap. “Thanks!”

Jun and Nino exchanged a look. This camera dude was super nice.

The photographer finished fixing the tinsel and patted Kento on the head before giving the adults a small nod. “I’ll see you guys around!” He waved one last time, then turned and got swallowed back into the crowd.

Nino turned to Jun, who was sporting a double chin as he tried to look at Hirari’s face.

“She drooled right through my shirt,” complained Jun.

Nino laughed. “Come on,” he said, wiggling Kento’s hand in his own, “let’s get you guys back to Mama.”

***

Back in his twenties, Nino had been a lot more adventurous with the dating—he had all the relevant apps, he had his go-to bars, and he didn’t mind one night stands or being involved in open relationships. As long as he could enjoy the guy’s company, he was all set.

In his thirties, Nino toned down, mainly because he got tired of the game of pursuit and it was just easier to wait for people to come knocking. He also realised that more and more of his friends were getting married and having kids, but laughed when he imagined himself in their shoes; he just couldn’t picture himself being tied down.

But that night, as Nino lay in bed thinking about Sho and Jun and their lives and loves, he felt extremely lonely. He wondered if Sho and Ohno were having married sex at that very moment, then groaned, throwing his arm across his eyes. He didn’t want to think about that; it was weird and intrusive and desperate.

He’d had countless talks with Jun and Sho about his love life, more so when they were younger and had more time to spend with each other. He hadn’t seen the necessity of a committed relationship; he’d tried, twice, and they’d never been very enjoyable for him. Neither lasted more than six months.

“They get needy,” Nino had explained over drinks once. “I don’t like that.”

“Yeah, but they’re also there for you when you most need them,” Jun had argued.

“It all comes with a cost,” Nino had waved his hand dismissively, “you have to do something for them in return for that treatment.”

“Like love them?” scoffed Jun.

“Something like that, yeah,” said Nino loftily.

“It could be good, you know,” Sho replied, “if you find someone right for you.”

“What if you never find him?” Nino challenged.

Sho considered the question for a while before asking: “Do you guys believe in ‘The One’?”

Nino remembered Jun had hesitated to answer. This surprised him—Jun was already married.

“Do you, then?” asked Jun.

“I don’t,” Sho said, laughing and shaking his head. “There has to be more than one person out there who’s compatible with me.”

“I agree, that’s why I live the way I do.” Nino smirked, and the other two moaned at his boast.

“I’m neither endorsing nor condemning your lifestyle, Nino,” Sho held up his hands, “I’m just saying that I believe love to be a matter of settling for someone and working out the kinks.”

Jun sniffed. “Somehow the word ‘settling for someone’ doesn’t paint a pretty picture.”

“It might not, but there are many ways to interpret it. You could be really, really happy, if you and your partner each do your best for the relationship. That’s how someone you like can become someone you actually fall in love with.” Sho had then gone on to talk about how low divorce rates for couples who had gone through an arranged marriage were, but Nino had already read that article, so he started tuning Sho out.

The thing was, Nino suspected he’d never truly, completely fallen in love. Not then, not now. He’d gotten broken up with before, so he knew how love could hurt, but he’d gotten over those pretty quickly.

The story always came back to the same page—Nino had never given his all in any of his romantic relationships because he never saw the happy ending. What was a happy ending, anyway? Marriage? Surely it didn’t _end_ there; from what he’d seen so far, that was just the start. And what was the point of it? Children? Nino thought about Jun and all his struggles as a dad; he couldn’t imagine himself as one.

It made him think, however. What had changed? Why had seeing Sho get married left Nino feeling so sorry for himself? Why did he suddenly care about being promised to be loved?

Nino fell asleep finding no answers.

***

“It’s age,” said Sho through a mouthful of cake, and Nino made a face as he handed Sho a napkin to wipe up his sprayed crumbs.

“Is it really?” asked Nino. “I’m not that old.”

They were right across the street from the Tsujii Conservatory of Music, at the cafe they used to haunt when they were students. Sho had suggested they hang out, since he had a few free days before he and Ohno flew back to Boston and New York respectively to prepare for their move back to Tokyo.

“It’s not just you.” Sho swallowed, stabbing the air with his fork. “Everyone else, too.”

Nino took a sip of his coffee. “What do you mean?”

“We all get older together, Nino. It can be upsetting when everyone around you is getting hitched and you’re not. Did you really think the only reason I went overseas was because I wanted to perform?”

“Yes,” replied Nino, sensing a confession.

Sho chewed on his piece of Swiss roll, buying time. “I remember doing a lot of thinking in hospital. I thought a lot about how I didn’t have anyone special by my side because I drove them away by always being so full of myself.”

“You’ve never been full of yourself, Sho-chan,” said Nino quietly.

“Not outwardly. Deep inside I felt this superiority: I thought I was a great person. I was the eldest son of two of Japan’s most famous heart surgeons, but I wasn’t an entitled asshole. I was the guy who achieved success on his own merit, choosing a path that was different from the one his parents mapped out for him, yet I had a reputation for being humble. It’s ironic, isn’t it? To be conceited like that.” Sho gave a mirthless chuckle. “I gave many excuses for all my breakups, but at the end of the day it all boiled down to one reason: I didn’t think they were good enough for me.”

Nino thought about all of Sho’s exes. They’d all been intelligent, humorous, polite and sensitive.

Just like Sho.

“So… the accident changed your take on relationships?”

“It was a catalyst. I thought being in a different environment would do me good, so I decided to be really radical about it and leave the country. Meeting people from around the world taught me many things, one of which was that I wasn’t that awesome after all. It gave me the courage to date guys whom I’d never have dated back in Japan.”

“Like Ohno-kun?”

Sho laughed. “Literally Ohno-kun.”

Nino poured more coffee from the decanter into his cup. “I don’t think my problem is with the guys I’ll date, Sho-chan.” He looked up, meeting Sho’s eyes. “I think it’s more of me being scared.”

“Of commitment?”

“Not that. Well, I don’t know. What if I’m not really ready? What if I’m just feeling like this because I’m sad and alone? And say I find the guts to take my relationships seriously—what if the people I end up liking don’t?”

Sho had an odd smile on his face as he took in Nino’s words. “All your doubts are legit, Nino, but you can’t think that far. You’ll never start anything like that.”

Nino sighed and propped his chin on his palm, staring into the blackness of his coffee. “You’re right, as always.”

There was a Puccini opera playing on the sound system—the cafe got free CDs from the college—and Nino closed his eyes to listen to it. He wasn’t a big opera buff, but he adored the way Puccini built his melodies.

“ _Tosca_ ,” Sho commented, listening in as well. “Oh, I know this part! Badass clarinet solo coming up in,” Sho’s line of vision floated upwards as he waited for the right moment, “three - two - one—”

Nino laughed as the clarinet started to play. “You big nerd!”

Sho grinned, satisfied that Nino was smiling.

“You’ll be fine, Nino. Go find someone to love.”


	2. Not stupid, not blind, not bovine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nino meets Aiba in the lift and they exchange business cards. Ohno reveals that Aiba isn't looking for a relationship. Nino goes on a disastrous date; Jun helps him escape it. Aiba makes first contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Daigo.

Nino had started out as a freelance music copyist, transcribing and putting other people’s music on paper, but he took advantage of the lulls to build his portfolio, which now mainly consisted of video game orchestrations and, thanks to an acquaintance in the musical theatre industry, show tunes. He was grateful he could earn a living composing and orchestrating, but it required a fair bit of discipline since his hours were so flexible and he mostly worked from home, which meant his games offered constant distraction.

That day, however, Nino was headed for Toranomon, where his client owned a studio. He'd been tasked to produce an album and had to be there for the recordings.

Nino showed up at the building with 10 minutes to spare; it was eight storeys tall and looked just like all the other ones, and he checked his phone for the address before hitting the button for the lift to bring him to the studio on the top floor.

The doors to the lift opened, and a man scurried into the lobby, following Nino in. He pressed the button for the fifth floor, and his head was bent as he dabbed a hand towel on his forehead, mopping up his perspiration while avoiding dampening his fringe. He had on a khaki linen shirt with a mandarin collar, and just as Nino was wondering why he hadn’t had the sense to fold up his long sleeves so he’d be cooler, he did.

“Ah!” Nino couldn’t help but smile as he recognised the man (and his forearms). “It’s you!”

The photographer from Sho’s wedding looked at Nino in surprise, then broke into a grin. “You’re that little boy’s friend!” The man pointed towards the ceiling. “I’ve kept his prize. In my office.”

“He’d be happy to know that.”

“Wait—do you work here? I’ve never seen you before, and there aren’t that many tenants in the building,” said the man, grabbing the front of his shirt and flapping the fabric to cool himself down.

“Oh, no. Hang on,” said Nino, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his card case. “I mostly freelance. Here,” Nino gave the man his business card, “my name’s Ninomiya.”

With a ding, the lift arrived at the fifth floor; the man put a hand on the side of the door to keep it open as he studied Nino’s card. He then looked up from it with a smile.

“I’m Aiba,” he introduced himself before glancing at the button panel, where ‘8’ was still lit up. “I assume you’re headed for the recording studio upstairs?”

“Yup,” answered Nino. “This musical theatre troupe is recording a best-of album and I’m helping to produce it, so I’ll be here for a while.”

“Cool! A whole day?”

“The whole of today, and maybe once or twice a week for the next couple months, depending on the actors’ schedules.”

There was a beeping sound—the doors were being kept open too long—and Aiba hurried outside.

“I’ll come up later and give you my card,” said Aiba, waving as the doors started closing. “Bye for now!”

“You don’t—” Nino began, but the doors had bumped shut, “—have to.”

Nino caught his reflection in the mirrored walls; there was a huge smile on his face, and he pressed his fingers onto his eyes, too embarrassed to look at himself.

He’d always been a sucker for forearms.

***

Aiba came to the studio and gave Nino his card as promised, but Nino couldn’t stay and chat because his singer was going to finish warming up anytime. Aiba just patted his hefty equipment bag and said he was heading out for a shoot anyway, and it was very nice to meet Nino, and then the singer finished warming up so Nino had to go.

The minute Nino had a break he texted Sho and Jun in their group chat.

_Hey, you guys know the photographer who worked Sho-chan’s wedding?_

Nino held his breath as the ‘Read by 1’ notification showed up.

 _There were two of them, right?_ answered Sho, and Nino noticed his ‘Read by 1’ had become a ‘Read by 2’. He then remembered it was the summer holidays and Jun didn’t have to teach regular classes, though he still had to go to work.

_The one who found Kento?_

_Yes!!_ Nino typed, before backspacing and erasing the exclamation marks. _Aiba-san. I met him in the lift this morning and we exchanged business cards._

_Small world! He’s an old friend of Satoshi’s._

_Wait, you met him in the lift? Where are you?_

It was just like Jun to notice the details.

_The studio I’m at is in the same building as his office._

_And this is significant how?_ came Jun’s reply.

Nino’s thumbs hovered above his keyboard as he wondered how to answer, but Sho cut straight to the chase.

_Shall I ask Satoshi to help find out if he’s available?_

_Ohhhhhh_ , typed Jun, and Nino tried his best not to smile at his screen like an idiot. He found a sticker that said ‘Please take care of me’ and sent it out, telling himself not to keep his hopes up.

***

“Was it the forearms?” asked Soo-jung the next evening over post-dessert coffee. Jun had invited Sho and Ohno as well, and they all snorted into their drinks as Nino groaned. He heard Ohno whisper to Sho: “So Nino likes forearms?”

“Not in front of the kids, Nee-chan.” Nino cast a cautious look towards the living area, where the four children were seated watching a blu-ray of _Finding Dory_ (their parents had loved all the _Nemo_ films growing up).

“Not interested, don’t worry,” said Ria, holding up a hand as she kept her eyes on the TV, and the table laughed.

“So, Ohno-kun,” Jun turned to face Ohno, a spark in his eye despite his solemn expression, “do you think Nino has a chance with him?”

Ohno paused, scratching his nose, stalling. Nino guessed he was still unused to the familiarity amongst everyone in the room, and how it was being extended to him.

“Oh crap,” Nino deadpanned, attempting a joke to lighten things up, “he doesn’t like men.”

“He does,” answered Ohno immediately. Jun, Soo-jung and Sho cheered, but Nino could hear a ‘but’.

“Is he single?” probed Soo-jung.

“Yes, but from what I know, I don’t think he’s looking?” Ohno shot Nino an apologetic look. “I’m not sure I should reveal more since it’s his business, and we’re close, so…”

“I get it,” said Nino quickly, brushing away the niggling disappointment that rose in him. “It’s okay. He just seemed really nice.”

“He is.” Ohno cracked a smile. “He’s the nicest person I know.”

“Uh oh,” said Soo-jung, “did you hear that, Sakurai-kun?”

Sho gave Ohno an exaggerated glare, nostrils flaring; this made Ohno laugh, and Jun tactfully changed the subject to a refill of coffee, which meant the topic of Nino wanting to date Ohno’s friend was now closed, and an awkward conversation had been successfully avoided.

It was too bad. That Aiba guy had seemed wonderful.

***

“Hey, Nino?” called Ohno, shuffling to stand beside Nino.

Sho had popped into the convenience store to buy some bottled water for his bus ride home, so it was just Nino and Ohno, hanging around the bottom of Jun’s apartment block.

“Yup?” Nino locked the keypad of his phone, giving Ohno his undivided attention.

“About Aiba-chan…” Ohno folded his arms, frowning as he stared at a spot on the ground. “I think you should still say hi when you see him around, you know?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” Nino nodded.

“Yeah.” Ohno kept the frown on, and they spent a few seconds in silence.

“So… you and Aiba-san have known each other a long time?” Nino piped up.

“We went to the same elementary school when I lived in Chiba for a bit, then met again in university.”

“Ah, you guys the same age?”

“Oh, no. I was two years ahead of him. Back in Chiba we took the same walking route to school so I knew who he was, but we got way closer when we joined our university’s confectionery appreciation club.” There was a pause, and Nino fought the urge to laugh about Ohno and Aiba’s intense enthusiasm for sweets. “Nino, what if I tell him you and I met today and you mentioned him? I promise I won’t say anything weird.”

Nino was touched; he knew Ohno was trying to be supportive, trying to find a way to connect them. “Sure. I mean, we met at your wedding, plus he was really friendly yesterday. Came up to my studio just to give me his card.”

“He did?” Ohno seemed surprised. Nino felt a rush of anticipation at his reaction, though it was soon forgotten when there came a painful poke in his side; by the way Ohno had suddenly twisted, Sho had jabbed at him too. Ohno swirled around to wrap his fingers around Sho’s throat and the back of his neck, vengefully tickling the fleshy part of his jaw.

“Go away,” laughed Sho, swatting at Ohno’s hands before throwing an embarrassed look at the very amused Nino, who had never seen Sho being tickled before, much less under the chin. “What were you guys talking about?”

“Aiba-chan,” said Ohno, as they started walking towards the station. “You know what? When we come back from America, we should hang out with Aiba-chan. Introduce him and Nino properly.”

Sho raised his eyebrows. “Since when did you like playing matchmaker?”

“I’m not playing matchmaker,” said Ohno, gesturing to Nino, “but Aiba-chan seems to want to get to know Nino.”

“Guys,” Nino waved at his friends, “discuss my life with me too!”

“Okay—what happened?” Sho asked, turning to Nino.

“I gave Aiba-san my business card in the lift but he didn’t have his own on him, so later he came to the studio I was working at just so he could hand me his card.”

“That counts for something, right?” said Ohno.

“All right—not to be a wet blanket, but isn’t he nicer than most people?” said Sho. “I wouldn’t put it past an extra nice person to personally deliver a business card. And it’s a _business_ card, guys—networking is so important in this time and age, I’m sure he knows that too.”

In the light offered by the street lamps overhead Nino caught Sho’s expression, carefully kept blank. Sho wasn’t really being a wet blanket; he was being protective and not wanting to get Nino’s hopes up.

Ohno shrugged. “Still, no harm trying to befriend him, Nino. He might not want a relationship right now, but who knows if he’ll change his mind tomorrow?”

“Or,” Sho chimed in, “you could cast a wider net and just meet as many people as you can.”

“That’s been my M.O. up till now, Sho-chan,” said Nino.

“Yeah, but you’re looking for a committed relationship now. If you put yourself in the right crowd, I’m sure you’ll meet some great people.”

“But none like Aiba-chan,” mumbled Ohno.

Sho turned to Ohno. “He isn’t the only one who’s right for Nino.”

“What if Nino’s the only one who’s—” Ohno caught Sho’s pointed look and killed the rest of his sentence.

“Guys,” said Nino, holding up his hands, “I’m very grateful— _moved_ , even—that you guys are almost having a fight over this, but I’m a big boy now. Trust me, I know how to date.”

***

_Call me,_ Nino wrote in the group chat, peeking under the table to make sure he wasn’t typing gibberish, _CALL ME NOW. Either one of you!!!_

“Are you okay, Ninomiya-kun?” asked Nino’s date for the evening. His name was Daigo, and Nino was convinced he was still in high school no matter how he kept dropping anecdotes about his colourful stage manager life.

“I’m fine.” Nino’s mind raced. Sho was leaving for America that night, so he might have already been on the plane; which meant Jun was the only one who could get him out of this fix—

“How about dessert?” asked Daigo, beaming.

“I—um,” Nino began, when thankfully, his phone started buzzing. “Sorry, gotta take this—”

“Oh, go ahead!” Daigo opened the menu with a flourish. “Let me just see what they have on their sweets menu…”

Nino rushed towards the entrance of the restaurant and out into the lift lobby, keeping his eyes on his table and his date as the call connected. “Oh, thank God—”

“Hi, Nino,” came the voice on the other end of the line, “Papa said you were in trouble.”

Nino squinted, trying to identify which one of Jun’s spawn was speaking. Kids’ voices could sound so similar over the phone. “Kento?”

“Wrong! It’s Dan. I have a baseball meet tomorrow, so I’m at home with Papa instead of going to Yamanashi to visit my baby cousin.”

“That is fascinating news. Where is your dad?”

“You’re on speakerphone!” came Jun’s voice from far away.

“I need you, Matsumoto. Come to the phone,” Nino growled.

“I _am_ at the phone!” said Dan indignantly.

“Would the eldest Matsumoto please come to the phone?” said Nino impatiently. He saw Daigo turn around to try and spot him, and Nino pretended he wasn't speaking to a seven-year-old, covering the mouthpiece and bowing as though he was making a grave apology.

The sound of running water in the background ceased, and there was the clinking of dishes before Nino heard Jun thank Dan for his services, and picked up the phone.

“What’s up?” asked Jun.

“Code Red. The guy is young, like super young, and he keeps complimenting me on how cool I am.”

“How is that a problem?!”

“He’s not what I’m looking for! He just told me his favourite idiom is my name! What does that even mean?”

“How did you end up on a date with him?”

“He messaged me on an app and we talked. He studied at Osaka Fine Arts and sounded quite sophisticated. But in real life, oh God. He behaves like he’s fifteen. And he calls me ‘Ninomiya- _kun_ ’, like what the hell? Where are his manners?”

“Didn’t you get to see his photo first?”

“I swear he used one of those makeup tool things to give himself a beard. I’m just realising it now.”

Jun gave an unceremonious snort. “Okay, go to him now, and—what’s the story?”

“Angry client.”

“Got it. When I hear you talking to him, I’ll start shouting about how the organ part sounds like shit and you have to send me a new script by midnight.”

“Good idea. I hate composing for organ.”

“Don’t we all?” 

Nino took a deep breath and strode up to Daigo, looking very sorry. “Hey, so I got a call from a client—”

Jun’s shrill censure about the organ part was loud enough to alarm people at the next table, and Nino hurriedly turned down the volume on his phone, feeling his ears go hot.

“I have to handle this,” said Nino, putting on his most forlorn look. “I think I really screwed up.”

“If it’s organ I could help you,” offered Daigo, sounding extremely hopeful, “I play it in church and have arranged stuff for it.”

“—AND THE THEREMIN PART DOESN’T FIT!” screamed Jun, overhearing the conversation.

Daigo’s eyes went wide. “You play the theremin? That is _so_ cool. I tried, and I was rubbish.”

Nino gave a weak smile, pointing to the phone. “Look, I really have to go.”

“Right,” Daigo said in a small voice, looking disappointed. “Maybe we could do this again?”

“Maybe,” said Nino, trying not to sound relieved. “We’ll split the bill, all right?”

An hour later, Nino stepped into Jun’s apartment.

“Theremin? We’re lucky he bought it,” he complained loudly, but was immediately shushed by Jun.

“Dan’s sleeping,” Jun informed, gesturing to the room adjoining the living room with a six-pack of beer, “and you’re welcome. Come on.”

Nino treaded quietly after Jun, and they entered the girls’ room at the end of the hallway. There was a double-decker bed and a long desk that was supposed to be shared, but Hirari was too young to use a desk so half of it was covered with toys and stationery. Jun put the beer down before shutting the door.

“Talk,” he commanded.

So Nino did—he told Jun about how he'd felt at Sho’s wedding, how he wanted something more than casual sex or whirlwind romance, how he was now looking for the right person to spend the rest of his life with.

Jun didn’t interrupt; he just hummed and nodded and adjusted the temperature of the air-conditioner. Nino continued to explain how he was feeling: mostly scared, because he was worried he wouldn’t be able to find someone.

When Nino fell quiet, Jun offered him a beer and watched him take a long draught.

“It’s only been a week since the wedding, Nino. What’s the rush?” asked Jun, voice gentle.

“Rush?”

“It’s not like you,” said Jun, grabbing a beer for himself. “You’re one of the most level-headed people I know, but here you are, trying to fall in love like it’s a mission in one of your games.”

Nino blinked. He hadn’t realised that.

“Here are my two cents.” Jun pointed at Nino with the can. “I think you’ve spent most of your adult life trying to avoid thinking about settling down, but suddenly the last of your closest friends has gotten married and you realise you’ve been left behind. It’s made you anxious, clouded your judgement, propelled you into uncharacteristic action.”

Nino pursed his lips, unable to retort. It was exactly how he felt, exactly how he was behaving.

Jun continued: “You’re now faced with the prospect of a forever with a person you’ll be willing to die for, and it’s enticing and irresistible. It’s the evergreen ideal, after all. So, suddenly, your senses are lit—you’re hyperaware of the kind of guys you’d like to be with, hence tonight’s debacle, and the enthusiasm you showed towards the photographer dude. Think about it: two weeks before, you’d have gone for the guy you met tonight based only on how he showed up in your life without any effort on your part.”

“…Sometimes it scares me how much you get me.”

Jun chuckled. “I’ve known you for twenty years, Nino.”

“My God, Jun-kun. You really stuck around.”

“So did you. It’s a two-way street. Not many of my friends who aren’t good with kids make the effort to like them.”

“Why does that sound more like an insult than a compliment?”

“It’s a compliment. An insult would be like: ‘You’re such a little shit.’”

“ _You’re_ the little shit.”

Jun laughed, then held out his can of beer for a toast. “To being scared!”

“To being… scared?”

“You were panicking tonight, Nino. I’ve had to get you out of similar situations before, but I’ve never seen you so flustered.”

Nino stopped to think. Jun was absolutely right.

“While it’s hilarious,” Jun went on, “it’s also comforting. You’re growing up. You finally know what you want—exactly what you want—and you’re barrelling towards it.”

“Like a stupid blind cow,” muttered Nino, rubbing his face with the heels of his palms.

Jun shook his head, smiling. “You’re neither stupid nor blind.”

“…Did I just let you call me a cow?”

Jun laughed. “Nino. This is a huge leap from where you were before; I think it’s perfectly okay to be scared.”

***

Nino gave a wide yawn and cradled his chin at the top of his fist, feeling his brand-new stubble, then pushed his head from side to side to get rid of the knot in his neck.

He was rushing out a piece for one of those Johnny’s boybands—they’d changed their concert setlist to include one of their unreleased B-sides, and since they needed it the next day but their musicians didn’t have the sheet music, Nino had to make it for them. He didn't usually do pop, but this particular song had an orchestral accompaniment which he'd written, and because the band playing for the concert didn't have all the instruments that’d been in the original composition, he had to further modify the score.

It was past two in the morning when Nino was done. All he wanted to do was sleep—he had a video call with a client at 10—and he grabbed his phone to set the alarm when he noticed the pop-up on the screen was informing him that Aiba Masaki had added him as a contact.

Nino tapped on the notification and saw that Aiba had initiated conversation. He’d sent Nino an animated waving dumpling (Nino smiled when he saw this; he had the same series of Chinese-food-themed stickers), and a simple ‘Hi, this is Aiba’. The text had been sent at 9:08 PM.

Nino was suddenly wide awake.

He stared at the screen, not sure if he should reply. The Nino of old would have just put away the phone and left it for the morning, but Nino was feeling a compulsion to text back immediately.

_Hey. Sorry for texting you so late. I just finished work,_

Nino looked at the message he’d typed up, then erased it. He exited the chat application, telling himself it wasn’t necessary to rush.

***

In the morning, the first thing Nino did after he switched off the alarm was to send Aiba a text. He wondered how polite he should sound, then settled for a mix of casual and formal Japanese.

_Hey, Aiba-san. Sorry I’m only replying now. Was a bit caught up in work yesterday. How are things?_

To his surprise, his message was immediately marked ‘Read’, and he didn’t have to wait too long for a reply.

_Hi! I’m quite busy, which is good. So when will you be at the recording studio again?_

Nino raised his eyebrows, wondering where this was going. _Today, actually. I have to be there by 3._

Aiba’s reply came as quickly as the previous one.

_I was wondering if you wanted to drop by the 5th floor and see Ohno-kun and Sakurai-kun’s wedding photos?_

Nino’s smile widened into a grin, and the sticker that he sent Aiba was of a dumpling leaping for joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the music nerds out there will appreciate the theremin joke. For those of you who didn't get it, it's funny because the theremin is terrifically hard to play, that's why it was Jun's next choice after organ, which they hadn't expected Daigo to be able to play in the first place. It had to be a situation where Nino, despite being a professional, could actually make a mistake because of the difficulty of composing for said instruments. (Sorry to have to explain a joke; it loses its punch, huh?)
> 
> And no offence to organ players; apparently organ is just hard to compose for because organs tend to be constructed differently across the board, in spite of them being the same instrument. Musical limitations and everything, but I shall not go into details.
> 
> Lastly--yay for the スイーツ部 (Confectionery Club) being a thing! (Thanks to Arashi themselves for the idea, and the naming.)


	3. Chinese and French Rustic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nino goes to look at Sho and Ohno's wedding photos at Aiba's office. Aiba invites Nino to hang out at his house.

Upon closer inspection of the directory at the bottom of the building, Nino found out that the photography agency Aiba belonged to occupied both the fifth and sixth floors. After some discreet Googling, he discovered Aiba’s company had shot for some world-class brands and supermodels; Nino wondered how Sho and Ohno had managed to afford his fees.

The lift doors opened out to the fifth floor, and Aiba was already waiting for him.

“Ninomiya-san,” greeted Aiba, all smiles.

“Aiba-san,” Nino rubbed his hands together, “show me the goods.”

Aiba laughed and led Nino past a set of doors into a workspace, where there were several cubicles; some of them were empty, others housed people performing post-processing work. Nino recognised one of the occupants as the other photographer at Sho’s wedding, but he was too engrossed with fixing someone’s zit on the computer screen, and didn’t acknowledge Nino.

Nino was expecting to enter one of the empty cubicles, but Aiba took him further, sliding open a door right at the back of the room to reveal a private office. It looked completely different from the workspace outside, which had been frigidly nondescript with its standard office tables and acrylic Eames shell chairs. This room let in a healthy amount of sunlight, bathing all the greys and whites and beiges of the furniture in a comfortable glow, and Nino stopped as he took in the accents of lime green on the cushions and curtain tiebacks. It was a very pretty room, more home than office. A glass cabinet in the corner played host to several cameras and their assorted peripherals; Nino spotted the camera with rainbow tinsel around its strap.

“This room,” said Nino, grinning as Aiba picked up a high-backed wooden chair and moved it to the other side of his desk, “you a fan of French rustic?”

“Well, I don’t hate it,” said Aiba, laughing. “I decided to redecorate my office earlier this year but didn’t really have the time, so I asked my sister-in-law if she could do it for me. She’s good at this sort of thing.” Aiba paused, hands on his hips, looking around the room. “She said it’s how my personality would look like if it were a room.”

They laughed, and Aiba showed Nino to his seat.

“So you like interior design?” It was Aiba’s turn to ask. “I mean, not everyone walks into my office and is able to go: ‘Is this French rustic?’”

Nino chortled, shaking his head. “I write a lot of stuff for musical theatre and video games, so I pick up random things during production meetings or when I hang out on set.”

“Cool,” said Aiba, sounding impressed.

There was a knock on the door, prompting Aiba to open it, and a man—the other photographer from Sho’s wedding—entered, balancing a tray on his arm. There was a pot of coffee, two cups on saucers, and a thermos of something else.

“Wow, thanks, Kazama-kun,” said Aiba, taking the tray.

“Chilled houjicha.” Kazama pointed to the thermos. “Just in case you don’t want the coffee.”

“Thank you,” said Aiba warmly, and Kazama excused himself, sliding the door closed from outside.

Nino watched this exchange in interest. He cleared his throat. “Aiba-san, could I just ask—are you the boss?”

Aiba put the tray down and gave Nino a sheepish smile. “More like the founder, I guess?”

 _Humble,_ Nino thought. _Ohno wasn’t lying when he said this guy is one-of-a-kind nice._

In the hour that he was in Aiba’s office, chatting with Aiba and looking at the slideshow of photos on Aiba’s computer (Aiba had sent them out to Sho and Ohno the previous evening), Nino learnt that Aiba had graduated from Nippon Academy of the Arts, majoring in intermedia arts, and that he and Ohno used to gripe about the music majors, who didn't participate in clubs and seemed to exist on a richer, snobbier side of campus; Nino and Aiba then had a good laugh over how Ohno had ended up marrying a guy with not one, but three music degrees.

“I hope your opinion of music majors has changed since then,” said Nino.

“Oh, definitely. Sakurai-kun’s great.” Aiba paused, blinking at Nino, who was giving him a meaningful look. “And so are you!”

“Slow,” teased Nino. “You know, I applied for your school—my parents really wanted me to get into a public school because it was all they could afford—but I couldn’t get through the entrance exam. Luckily, a private music university in Hokkaido offered me a scholarship, so I went there.”

“What’s it called?”

“Noboribetsu University of Music. It’s quite small and not very famous, so I’m not surprised if you haven’t heard of it. But it’s where I met that little boy’s dad. You know, the dad whose kid you found? He’s Sho-chan’s friend too. The three of us used to hang out together a lot before Sho-chan moved to Boston.”

“Oh, him!” Aiba bounced in his seat excitedly. “When I first saw you guys I thought you were a couple, but then he went ‘I’ve got to text my wife’ and I was like, oops.”

Nino chuckled. “Man, that hasn’t happened for such a long time. Brings back memories. People at school used to think we were together because he’s so pretty and they knew I liked guys, plus we shared an apartment and hung around each other so much.”

Nino wanted to give himself a pat on the back at how expertly he’d weaved in that detail about his gayness, but Aiba didn’t even bat an eyelid. Did he know already?

“I get it. Oh-chan and I had that a lot, especially since he was a sculpture major and wasn’t in my building, plus we were from different years. But he was so easy to be around. In fact,” Aiba waved a finger between himself and Nino, “he was the one who suggested we hang out. He said you’d appreciate the goofball photos of Sakurai-kun.”

Nino grinned as he looked at the photo of Sho on the screen, one taken after the speeches when Sho had been surprised with a song-and-dance by Ohno. It’d been a version of a song Sho had originally written for Ohno when they’d been dating, and the lyrics were more silly than romantic. The camera had captured Sho’s look of unadulterated, blissful shock as Ohno performed on stage.

“Ohno-kun and I haven’t known each other long, but I have to say he knows my taste in photos,” said Nino.

“Wait,” Aiba leant back into his chair, thinking, “if you went to school in Japan, how did you and Sakurai-kun meet? He told me he went to university in England.”

“He did. We did postgrad together; he came back to Japan to do a second Master’s, so he enrolled the same year I did at Tsujii. He was doing music education and I was doing composition, but I took a pedagogy elective, which was part of his main coursework. During class we had to do some group work, and him and I somehow emerged friends.” 

“You’re very easy to talk to; I’m not surprised.”

Nino couldn’t hide his pleasure at Aiba’s compliment; he dimmed his smile before it could break his face.

“How did you end up being their photographer?” Nino decided to ask. “I noticed that your firm mainly does commercial shoots.”

“Oh yes, we don’t do weddings at all,” Aiba chuckled, “but when I asked Oh-chan if he needed any recommendations for photographers, he said they weren’t planning to have one because the wedding itself was already going to be so expensive. They were just going to rely on their guests’ snapshots. Pardon my snobbery, but I was horrified. I told him I’d do it for him as a wedding present, if he didn’t mind that I haven’t done a wedding in years.”

“You did great, though.” Nino pointed to the screen, which was now showing Kento crouching under the Pegasus, grinning as he discovered the camera, which had in turn discovered him. “They’re beautiful.”

“You have to remember half of them were taken by Kazama-kun,” Aiba laughed, “he was doing weddings before he joined our agency.”

“But I know for sure you took all the Kento pictures,” said Nino, admiring the next photo: a closeup of Kento under the Pegasus’s stone belly, looking delighted at being found. His resemblance to Jun was remarkable. “Could I take a photo of this one? I’d like to send it to his dad.”

“Don’t take a photo. I’ll send you the file,” said Aiba, as he stopped the slideshow. He scrolled through the pictures, looking for all the shots that had Kento in it.

“So you like kids, huh?” Aiba asked, and Nino could tell it was a casual question, so he decided to give an honest answer.

“So long as they’re not my own,” said Nino.

Aiba paused what he was doing to look at Nino. “Really?”

“Yeah. Right now, at least.” Nino shrugged. “I’m not the kind of person who can raise kids on my own, but I kind of suck at keeping relationships afloat, so finding someone to be the other dad is the first hurdle I’d have to face before I even think about children.” Nino wondered if he was hinting too hard that he wanted to try harder at love. He didn’t want Aiba to think that he was interested in him. Not right now, at least. It seemed too early.

Aiba clicked a button and the files started uploading to a server. He turned, kept his eyes on Nino a second longer than was comfortable, and finally spoke.

“Earlier this year, I was engaged, but my ex broke it off because he was ‘uncertain’. Can you imagine that? It wasn’t even a problem, like love dying out, or having differing views about kids. It was a _feeling_. He just wasn’t sure about us, even two weeks before our wedding.” Aiba gave Nino a wry smile. “I hope I’m not scaring you.”

“You’re not, but you’re definitely making me wonder why you’re telling me this.”

“I don’t know.” Aiba gave a short laugh, an amused look crossing his features. “I can’t help but think that maybe it wasn’t you: you didn’t suck at keeping the relationship afloat. You just kept dating the guys that didn’t mind letting it sink. And maybe, just maybe, a part of you didn’t mind either.”

“…Thank you for complimenting my taste in men and being a superb judge of my character.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean that!” protested Aiba, flustered. “I just meant that my ex—well, both him and I—we didn’t try hard enough, and we let things fail. I could have tried to get him back, but I just let him go in the end.”

“I know, I know,” Nino pacified, “I was just joking. I know who you're talking about.”

Aiba looked a little put out, though relieved. Nino bit down on a grin; Aiba was cute when he tried to frown and smile at the same time.

“Hey, Aiba-san…” Nino started, before clamping his mouth shut again. He’d wanted to ask Aiba if he was ready for a new relationship, but he remembered what Ohno had said over coffee the other day at Jun’s house: Aiba was single, but it didn’t seem that he was looking to date.

And Ohno had probably known about Aiba’s engagement, based on what he’d said about it all being ‘Aiba’s business’, and his reluctance to overstep his boundaries as a close friend of Aiba’s. It all made sense now. Aiba had suffered a bad breakup earlier this year, though 'bad breakup' was quite an understatement seeing that he basically had to cancel his wedding two weeks before it happened; it was only August, so it really did feel like too soon.

Aiba was looking at Nino expectantly, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“It’s almost three, so I have to go,” said Nino lamely, “but I had fun. Thanks for the private screening and the chat.”

“No problem,” Aiba smiled, “I’ll send you the link for the photos.”

Nino got up from his seat, feeling an unfamiliar weight at the bottom of his stomach. He felt like a wimp for not asking Aiba out, or even saying they should hang out again, but he also knew he was being sensitive, and that had to count for something. Maturity points, maybe.

“You don’t have to see me out,” said Nino, once he realised Aiba was following him to the front door.

“You’re my guest,” said Aiba, eyes crinkling as he smiled, gesturing for Nino to exit his office first.

Aiba was the kind of person Nino had never imagined himself dating: obliging and thoughtful, with a touch of initiative to their empathy. Nino’s ideal type, right up until Sho’s wedding, was sort of like himself: lackadaisical, but still interested enough to try and like him as a person and entertain him as a lover. Guys like that tended to leave Nino alone when he asked them to, to let him pursue his work and hobbies without him having to give them a lot of attention. Of course, it also meant they never stuck around long.

But despite Aiba’s type presenting as rather foreign to Nino, he still wanted to ask him out. What had Sho said, way back then? That there wasn’t really a ‘The One’; no one was destined for anyone, they just had to try harder with the people they came to like. And hadn’t Jun said Nino now knew exactly what he wanted? If his head was telling him to go for a guy like Aiba, he shouldn’t let his lack of experience ruin his chances.

It finally dawned on Nino that he was afraid. He didn’t want to ask Aiba out only to be rejected, or to appear as coming on too strong and dash all hopes of ever starting something with him.

All too soon they were in the lift lobby, and Aiba pressed the button; Nino was disappointed when they didn’t have to wait long.

“See you around, Ninomiya-san,” said Aiba, waving as Nino faced him from the other side of the doors.

“Sure,” said Nino, waving back. His hand wilted as the doors shut, and he sighed, slumping against the walls. He felt exhausted.

Nino closed his eyes, thinking what he liked about Aiba (besides the forearms; those were timeless).

Aiba treated people right, as evidenced by how he interacted with his employees. He called Nino ‘Ninomiya- _san_ ’. He thought Nino’s work was cool, but didn’t make a big deal out of it, because if his own success was anything to go by, he was very cool himself. He had this awkward innocence about him, but at the same time was down-to-earth and mature: he hadn’t tried to blame his failed relationship entirely on his ex. He was also a close friend of Ohno’s, and Nino thought very highly of Ohno, so anyone Ohno thought highly of was an awesome person in Nino’s book. Oh, and Nino liked Aiba because he was generous: he’d taken Sho and Ohno’s wedding day photos for free, and had done a splendid job.

The lift opened to the eighth floor and Nino stepped out, only to stagger back in surprise as the door to the staircase flew open and Aiba ran out, gasping for air.

“Aiba-san?” Nino hazarded, crouching to look at Aiba, who had his hands on his knees for support. Aiba didn't look like he could speak just yet; Nino waited, patting Aiba on the back when he gave a few short coughs.

“Ninomiya-san,” said Aiba between breaths, “I was just wondering - if we could go out for a meal together sometime?”

A laugh escaped Nino’s throat. “Did you run up six flights of stairs just to ask me out?”

Aiba looked up at Nino, hair falling into his eyes. “Yes.”

“You are extremely friendly, Aiba-san.”

“Depends on who I’m with.”

Nino held back another face-breaking smile. “Okay then.”

“Okay?” Aiba straightened and brushed away the sweat that had beaded on his brow.

“Yeah.” Nino thought he’d go blind from the way Aiba was now beaming at him. “I’ll text you my schedule—” Nino was interrupted by the lift chiming; Maruyama, the sound engineer, stepped past the doors. He stopped short when he saw Nino and Aiba staring at him, both standing very straight in their spots as their excitement faded into embarrassment.

“Uh, hello, please take care of me today,” said Maruyama, angling his head at Nino, before glancing at Aiba, who had gone quite red.

Nino cleared his throat, willing his voice to sound normal. “Hey, Maruyama-kun. I’ll be there in a minute, yeah?”

“Oh, sure. See you inside.” Maruyama took the hint, excused himself, and slipped past the door behind Nino into the recording studio.

Nino and Aiba watched as the door closed with a satisfying click, then turned to each other.

“You have to work. I should go,” said Aiba, stepping back towards the staircase. “So you’ll text me when you’re available?”

“Aiba-san,” Nino pointed to the lift, “I think this way’s better.”

“Oh, right.”

The lift hadn’t gone down since Maruyama had come up; the doors opened the instant Nino hit the button, and he reached out to push Aiba on the small of his back into the lift.

“I hope this wasn’t too weird,” said Aiba, turning around to face Nino. “I don’t usually behave like this.”

“Sure you don’t.” Nino laughed as Aiba once again gave him an exasperated look. “I’m kidding. Get used to it.”

The doors started to close, and Aiba said through the gap: “I’ll be waiting for your text, Ninomiya-san!”

“Call me Nino!”

The doors slid shut, and Aiba was gone.

Nino watched the overhead panel light up, counting the floors as the lift made its descent. He’d just been asked out by the guy he liked. It had happened before, but never like this.

Very calmly, Nino stepped away from the lift. He then raised his hands and danced for two measures of a Spanish bolero before he straightened, took a deep breath, and strode into the studio.

***

Sitting on the bed with his knees tucked close to his chest, Nino kept his gaze fixed on his phone, which he held up with the assistance of his kneecaps. He’d just sent over the week’s schedule to Aiba, and was waiting for his message to be read.

It was silly, Nino knew. He was behaving like a teenager. But nobody was here to judge.

Nino was nervous because there was a possibility that Aiba hadn’t actually asked him out on a date. The more Nino replayed their conversation from the afternoon in his head, the more doubts he had. Maybe Aiba had just _really_ wanted a best bud? The words they’d used hadn’t been very specific; nobody mentioned anything about a date, and Aiba’s intentions could have been interpreted as ‘extremely friendly’, as Nino had very astutely pointed out.

Then again, if Aiba wasn’t interested in Nino, he wouldn’t have been so jumpy when Maruyama spotted them together.

Nino sighed, wondering if he should consult Jun or Sho. They were always capable of giving solid advice, despite his love life having been vastly different from theirs. They subscribed to more conservative ideals and were far from prurient, but they always seemed to be able to put themselves in Nino’s shoes, tolerate the sometimes-sordid details, and help him sort his heart out.

Then again, there would be nothing to ask them about if Aiba hadn’t meant to ask Nino out on a date-date. Being gay but just bros was a thing—Nino and Sho were a stellar example. Nino could be overthinking everything.

It was then that the ‘Read’ notification appeared beside his post in the chat, and Nino held his breath as he waited for Aiba to respond.

A bowl of ramen appeared on the screen, animated so that the noodles which were pulled up by a pair of chopsticks formed the words ‘You worked hard today’.

Nino responded with the same sticker, and he found himself hiding a grin in the crook of his elbow. Nobody was judging him for being pleased, yes, but he was embarrassing himself.

_I’m free on Wednesday evening as well. Is 6 good for you?_

Nino read the message five times, trying to decide if Aiba meant this to be a date or not, and whether he should just ask.

 _6, got it._ Nino stared at the blinking cursor. He wanted to type ‘is this a date?’ but chickened out, and asked Aiba where they’d be eating instead.

 _My place?_ came the reply. _I could cook Chinese food!_

Nino thought he could feel a headache coming on as Aiba complemented his sentence with a grinning spring roll flashing a thumbs up—at the speed Aiba was sending his messages, it didn’t seem like he was reading too much into their plans for Wednesday. If this had been any other guy and Nino had been three weeks younger he’d have said yes in a heartbeat; but this was Aiba, who was, as Nino was starting to realise, very much like an incredibly approachable puppy—a puppy Nino badly wanted to adopt. Nino doubted Aiba was being very careful about how he was coming across to Nino.

Nino seized his pillow and made a strangled noise into it before throwing it aside and returning to the chat. He hit the voice call button and placed the phone against his ear.

“Hello?” said Aiba, and Nino heard the apprehension in his greeting. It wasn’t unwarranted; Nino calling in the middle of a text-based conversation was quite a surprise.

“Hey, Aiba-san.” Nino mustered up all the courage he had at his disposal. “Just wondering—are we hanging out as just friends, or is this like a first date kind of thing?”

The silence that stretched out between them was long enough for Nino to translate it musically: 72 beats per minute, common time, a couple of semibreve rests with a fermata on the second one.

“Could it be both?” Aiba finally spoke, and Nino didn’t want to assume, but he thought he could hear a lot of loneliness in Aiba’s voice.

It was like a sack of bricks to the chest; Nino felt a surge of sympathy for Aiba, and for a moment he wondered if he should just abandon his weird new approach to dating and just promise Aiba an evening of Chinese food and great sex, no strings attached.

“No,” Nino found himself saying instead, “because that’s a lot of pressure for either of us, so let’s just do this as friends first.”

Nino counted another measure of silence.

“Okay,” said Aiba, in the same whisper as before.

“Just so you know, I’m not trying to distance myself from you or anything passive-aggressive like that.” Nino closed his eyes, willing himself to be brave. “I’m doing this because I actually kind of like you, and I don’t want to screw up my chances by moving too fast.”

“O-Okay,” came Aiba’s breathless reply. “So you didn’t - you weren’t put off by me being the guy who got dumped right before his wedding?”

Nino laughed at the absurdity of Aiba’s presumption. “Was I supposed to?”

“I thought you’d mind that I was… I dunno, a defective product?”

“‘Defective product’?” Nino couldn’t stop the wonder from creeping into his voice. “Aiba-san, that has been the furthest thing from my mind since I’ve met you.”

Aiba gave a small laugh; Nino could tell he was relieved.

“After the engagement was broken off, I wasn’t myself. I’d been with the guy eight years, so it kind of messed me up a little. And I felt like everyone knew I was messed up—my friends were really careful around me, my parents were always checking in to ask if I was okay… Even Oh-chan hesitated to send me a wedding invite because he was afraid it would upset me. That sort of thing, you know? People just kept on _pitying_ me, and I felt like in their eyes, I wasn’t me anymore.”

Nino was starting to feel really sorry for Aiba. He seemed to care a lot about what people thought of him. Then Nino squashed the emotion, because Aiba had been very clear that he didn't want pity. 

“Sorry for unloading all this on you,” said Aiba.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s just… you’re the first person in a long time who’s looked at me like I’m normal.”

“You mean ‘desirable’.” The words just flew out of Nino’s mouth, and he froze. “Ah, shit. Sorry. Flirt mode hasn’t booted up in a while, it’s a bit wonky.”

Aiba burst into a series of wheezy giggles, and Nino covered his face with his hand to hide his embarrassment even though Aiba couldn’t see him.

“Are you always like this, Ninomiya-san?”

“You just gotta get used to it. And please, call me Nino.”

“But you call me ‘Aiba-san’.”

“Aiba- _kun_ , then.”

“Ah, that’s better.” There was an almost purring quality to Aiba’s voice, and it made Nino’s skin tingle in the best way possible.

“Aiba-kun, I have a suggestion.”

“Yes?”

“I have a feeling both you and I are in a no man’s land right now when it comes to relationships. You’re surviving the aftermath of a rough breakup, I’ve only just decided my days of promiscuity are over—we’re still finding ourselves. It’ll be really dumb to try and start anything.”

“I agree.” Aiba inhaled audibly. “So what do you suggest?”

Nino had a brainwave. “We do the dating thing as in we hang out, but don’t touch each other.”

“Wow, Nino. That’s… upfront.” Aiba paused. “What if you choke and I have to Heimlich you?”

“That’s allowed.”

“What if we’re stuck in the cold, and the only way to warm ourselves up is to hug? Or spoon?”

“Hugging’s fine, I guess; but spooning’s totally pushing it.”

Aiba laughed. “Okay, so what exactly are the limits?”

Nino hummed. “Definitely no kissing, because kissing always leads to something more; no hugging, but sideways ones and pats on the back are okay; and no touching of erogenous zones. I guess what I’m saying is, we shouldn’t have any meaningful physical contact.”

“But I can still take my shirt off in front of you?”

“Oh, no. You may not.” Nino thought for a moment. “All changing of clothes has to take place in a separate room, and stares of appreciation at accidental skin-baring shouldn’t last more than three seconds. ”

Aiba laughed, and Nino tried to scowl despite his smile.

“I’m serious,” Nino insisted.

“I know you are. That’s what’s hilarious,” said Aiba. “So we’re just friends for now?”

“Just friends.” Nino was resolute; he wanted to do this right, and that meant revamping his entire relationship playbook. 

“With some kind of end goal to fall in love?”

“The _pressure_ , Aiba-kun!”

“We might end up hating each other’s guts after we get to know each other better, huh?”

“And vow never to see each other again.”

“Yeah,” intoned Aiba solemnly. “So—Wednesday at six?” he continued, tone cheerful.

Nino laughed. “Sure. Text me your address.”


	4. Zero to Goal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiba and Nino hang out with Nino's no-touching policy enforced. Nino is commissioned to write a cantata, and gets writer's block until Aiba swings by.

It was Wednesday, and Nino wasn’t going to lie; there was something very attractive about Aiba in an apron, especially with his sleeves rolled up like that. Had he somehow been informed that Nino was weak to forearms?

“You didn’t say I’d have to watch you cook,” Nino grumbled loudly, betraying his feelings. “I’m famished!”

“I forgot I was out of sesame oil and had to run out to buy some, sorry. Go have a seat in the living room and watch some TV, okay? I should be done in half an hour.” Aiba sounded truly apologetic as he sliced into a pepper, and Nino immediately felt bad as he remembered how Aiba tended to take things to heart.

“Aiba-kun, I’m joking. I can wait.” Nino left his perch by the sink and pressed his forehead into the dip between Aiba’s shoulder blades. “You don’t have to say sorry for everything.”

Aiba stopped cutting his pepper and turned to look over his shoulder. “Hey. I thought you said we shouldn’t have too much physical contact?”

“Yeah, but this is me being mildly frustrated, _platonically_ , and I find banging my head on you a lot more comfortable than against a wall.” Nino pounded his forehead against Aiba’s back to prove his point.

Aiba laughed. “Are you any good at cooking? Could you help to speed up the process?”

Nino stepped back from Aiba to look into the pot that was steaming over the stove. There was a fish in there. “Um, I can boil eggs?”

Aiba snorted as he splashed some soy sauce into a glass bowl. Nino noticed that he eyeballed everything without needing a recipe. It was quite impressive to Nino, given that he hardly knew how to cook.

Aiba gestured to the fridge with his chin. “There’s a slab of cooked pork belly in the fridge, could you—”

“I’m on it,” said Nino, opening the fridge and crouching to survey its contents. “It’s the sad-looking grey block in the cling wrap, right?”

“That’s the one.” Aiba shook his head. “‘Grey block in the cling wrap’, my God.”

Nino rolled his eyes and made a face at Aiba as he handed him the pork, and Aiba tucked his upper lip into his lower one, making one back. They burst out laughing, and Nino pointed to Aiba’s chopping board and scolded: “Don’t get distracted; hurry up and cook!”

They talked as Aiba continued preparing the twice-cooked pork, Nino helping to pass condiments along when the occasion arose. He learnt that Aiba’s father had taught him how to cook when he was nine, and when Aiba told him that his parents owned a Chinese restaurant in Chiba, Nino revealed that his parents were chefs as well, except of Japanese cuisine.

“ _Both_ of them are chefs and you can only boil eggs?” exclaimed Aiba.

“Not just eggs; I’m very good at boiling all sorts of food,” said Nino, keeping his face as straight as possible while Aiba laughed and called him hopeless.

They continued chatting about food, swopping tidbits about what they liked and disliked eating growing up, and how their tastes had changed: Aiba couldn’t stand pickled plums when he was a kid, but now he liked eating them with soumen. He then became very alarmed when Nino said he didn’t really like seafood, since there was sea bass steaming as they spoke, but Nino assured him cooked fish was fine; it was the raw stuff and molluscs he didn’t care for.

Nino realised he really enjoyed talking to Aiba, despite Aiba being the kind of person who could come across as overly solicitous if one didn’t blatantly tell him he could relax around them. It was interesting; Jun, Sho and even Ohno had very quickly lost their formalities with Nino, but Aiba seemed to want to stay considerate and attentive, no matter how familiar they became.

Nino supposed that was one thing he really admired about Aiba.

As they cleared their empty plates and put them into the sink, Nino knew it was time to start planning for when they’d see each other again. It made his stomach flutter, and he wanted to run out and hide. It was a defence mechanism, because today he was choosing not to act on his impulses—normally he’d stand beside the guy, snake an arm around his waist, angle his mouth to his ear to murmur some nonsense about how he enjoyed the evening and would like to do it again, and the next moment they’d be all over each other, heading for the bedroom—and behave like the responsible 38-year-old he wanted to be.

“Nino,” called Aiba, and before Nino realised what was happening he had water sprinkled into his face. Aiba bent over the sink, cackling, proud of his lame prank. He took a step away from Nino as Nino approached, wary of Nino’s intentions.

“Please, I’m not going to be twelve and do the same thing to you,” announced Nino, wiping his face on his sleeve and pumping some hand soap onto his palm; some grease from the plates had gotten on his hands. “I’m just going to wash my hands and—”

Nino flung his suds at Aiba as hard as he could but Aiba had read his move and twisted around, making Nino howl in indignation.

“This is stupid!” Nino yelled as he rinsed his hands, laughing. “We’re almost forty!”

Aiba gave a soft chuckle before coming up behind Nino; he braced both his arms on either side of Nino, hands gripping the edge of the sink.

Nino went still, heart racing as he felt Aiba’s heat on every inch of his bared skin.

The only sound between them was the running of the tap.

“We’re not touching,” managed Nino finally, switching off the water, and his cheeks flamed as he heard his voice falter.

“Not touching,” repeated Aiba quietly, agreeably.

It was true; they weren’t. But Nino was sure, from the way Aiba’s breath was warm on the shell of his ear, that Aiba really wanted them to.

Then Aiba sighed and pulled back, giving Nino’s shoulder a quick squeeze. 

“I gotta do the dishes. Scoot over.” Aiba picked up the scrub sponge and nudged Nino to the side with his elbow.

Nino got out of the way so Aiba could work. He didn’t want to make a perfunctory offer to help Aiba wash up—he had a feeling Aiba wouldn’t let him anyway—so he stood by the drying rack and asked if the dishtowel on it was clean. Aiba gave a nod, but didn’t say anything else. Nino lay the towel atop his hand, ready to help dry the dishes.

“I’m sorry,” said Aiba suddenly, looking up from his task. “What I did just now… I didn’t mean to try and break the rules.”

“Aiba-kun, once again, you don’t have to apologise.”

“Nino, I…” Aiba gave Nino a pained look, and seemed unable to complete his sentence.

Nino put down the dishtowel and looked at Aiba head-on. “You let me make the rules, Aiba-kun. I had no right, but you let me. I didn’t give you a say, and you still let me. I’m the one who should be sorry for forcing them on you, okay? So just… don’t say sorry. We’re even. We’ll always be even.”

Aiba’s jaw had gone taut, and for a moment Nino thought he was angry, but when he spoke, Nino realised he had come to terms with something.

“The rules protect us,” said Aiba with a resolute nod. “They’re good, Nino. They prevent us from getting hurt.”

Nino didn’t really understand where Aiba was going with that, but he nodded anyway. Aiba went back to his dishwashing, and Nino started drying the tableware as Aiba deposited them into the drying rack. Silently, they worked at their chores, the atmosphere thankfully less awkward than Nino thought it was going to be.

“When can I see you again?” asked Aiba after a while, his voice gentler now.

“Anytime you’re available, really. I don’t keep office hours, so I can fit myself into your schedule.”

Aiba nodded. “You like games, right?”

“I do like games,” said Nino as he dried a bunch of chopsticks.

“Do you like escape rooms?”

Nino blinked. “I’ve never been in one, but I suppose it could be fun. Why?”

“One of my clients—you might have heard of them—Funnect?”

“The people who do comic book cafes?”

“Yeah, them. They operate all sorts of entertainment joints: pachinko parlours, arcades, karaoke clubs…”

“And escape rooms?”

“And escape rooms. Just the one place, though. It’s a new venture. I shot the ad for them last month and the grand opening was yesterday. They sent me a stack of complimentary tickets—I’ve given out most of them to my staff, but I think I have a couple left. You interested?”

Nino thought about it. “It’s an actual room with air-conditioning and everything, right? It’s not an euphemism for some outdoor garden maze?”

“It’s indoors, I promise.” Aiba laughed. “Is that your greatest concern?”

“Yeah. I kinda hate bugs, and it’s summer.”

“I don’t like bugs too, so.”

They grinned at each other, all of their earlier tension forgotten.

Their next date was going to be at an escape room.

***

_You’ve been quiet lately. New boy in your life?_

Nino ducked, hiding his smile behind his hand as he read the text. Stupid Jun was always using the same line for Nino’s silences, though it had always been true—he’d always been distracted by some guy and gotten too busy to text his friends. Even Sho would tease him, though to a lesser extent.

That said, Aiba wasn’t his ‘new boy’; what they were doing wasn’t completely romantic. Neither was it courtship; Nino felt like he was still holding out for that.

But Nino was confident that they were friends. They seemed to have feelings for each other, but those feelings didn’t seem to be strong enough for them to fall in love, and any lust that was between them was successfully being reigned in by Nino’s ridiculous set of rules.

“Ninomiya-sensei?”

“Yes?” Nino was in a fatally boring meeting with his clients at SEGA; they’d been going over the same points over and over again, and most of it didn’t concern Nino. He wasn’t supposed to be looking at his phone, but he was paying attention and they knew it.

“The creators’ musical vision for the new liturgy scene includes a twenty-minute cantata based on Johanna’s image song—do you think we could have it out by Monday so we can finish pitching to choirs by the end of August? We have the lyrics here.” The SEGA representative slid a piece of paper over to Nino.

“Monday?” Nino blinked, looking at the document. Even Bach took a week for those things, and it was Friday. A Monday deadline would also mean he had to cancel on Aiba; they’d planned to go to the escape room during the weekend. “You guys know what a cantata is, right?”

The representative’s smile wavered as she checked the schedule in her hands. “How about Tuesday morning?”

Nino groaned inwardly; it didn’t make a difference. However, these people were in charge of his paycheque; he didn’t want to offend them.

“Sure,” said Nino, “Tuesday morning is fine.”

***

“I’m stuck.” Nino paced in front of his piano as he complained to Jun over the phone. “I can’t figure out the rest of the theme, and there’s no time.”

“Chill, Nino. Telemann wrote his cantatas in a day or something, didn’t he?”

“Are you seriously comparing my mediocrity to Telemann’s genius?”

“Oh please. He wasn’t that good; he just wrote a lot of stuff. Prolific, I’ll give him that.”

“Please don’t insult Telemann, I actually like him.” Nino sighed. “Do you have any ideas? I’m told it has to sound really sad because Johanna seems like she’s about to die, but her image music is all dreams and motion and before I know it I’m slipping back into Lydian mode.”

“Okay—you at the piano right now?”

“Yes. Maybe you could listen to what I’ve got so far—I think I managed to get some suffering going on with the full diminished sevenths. I want to know if you feel it too.”

“No. Close up the piano. It’s a beautiful day. Go take a walk, grab a coffee.”

“I don’t want a coffee, I want a fugue.” Nino moaned. “Dammit, Jun-kun. I cancelled all my weekend plans for this!”

“You can’t call staying at home gaming ‘weekend plans’.”

“I was actually going to an escape room,” said Nino, before realising belatedly that Jun would probe.

“Alone?” Jun sounded aghast. “That is so sad. Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve brought the older kids and we could’ve done it together.”

“Not alone. I was going to go with Aiba-kun.”

“Who, the photographer?”

“Yeah.”

There was silence on Jun’s end for the briefest second. “You made a move on him?”

“No moves were made, Jun-kun. We’re just friends, hanging out.”

“So you two were just… going to an escape room?”

“Yeah.”

“And after that?”

“I wasn’t planning to sleep with him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Seriously? But you always plan to sleep with—wait, have you slept with him already?!”

“ _No_ , Matsumoto, I haven’t.” Nino took a deep breath and wished that he wouldn’t sound lame. “I thought about what you said, about me rushing into things, so I decided to, well… cock block myself.”

“What?”

“I came up with some rules that stop us from getting too intimate. No kissing, no removing of shirts, that sorta thing.”

“Nino, you do know that if you cock block yourself you’re cock blocking him as well, right? What if he doesn’t want to be cock blocked? What if you’re jeopardising your chances with him by making these rules? Did you make them together?”

“No, it was my idea. He seems fine with it.”

“God, he is a _saint_.” Jun paused. “I’m worried, though. Having boundaries might seem like a good idea now, but sometimes when the rules get too strict they get broken—that’s when people get really hurt. You catch my drift?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, we’ll talk about it as honestly as we can.”

“Okay.” Jun’s voice had become thick. “I am so proud of you, you know?”

“How come?”

“This is how it starts, Nino. The self-sacrifice, the mutual respect, the communication—all culminating in the single-minded pursuit of something good. I never thought I’d see the day. We’ve gotta tell Sho-san; he might cry.”

Nino laughed. “And yet, we’re not all that. We’re only starting to figure things out.”

“I’m rooting for you so hard, you have no idea.”

“Thanks. It means a lot.”

“You know, maybe you should let him listen to your diminished sevenths. It’d give you a reason to talk to him, share a part of your musical woes with him, introduce him to your work, and maybe you’d even get inspired.”

“…Jun-kun, that’s genius.”

“Right? So many birds, one stone.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Jun laughed at Nino’s dismissal before disconnecting the call.

***

When a bespectacled Aiba showed up at Nino’s doorstep, all smiles and armed with a bag of food, Nino felt like hugging him. He didn’t, of course.

“You didn’t have to come,” said Nino, letting Aiba in, “I could’ve just let you listen to it over the phone.”

“I’m a five-minute bike ride away, Nino. Besides, my stupid date cancelled on me, so I have the whole day free,” said Aiba cheekily, and Nino gave him a swift kick in the shins, making him laugh.

“Do you actually have to wear glasses?” asked Nino, unbearably curious as he shut the door. “Or are those just a fashion statement?”

“My eyesight’s just started getting worse,” said Aiba ruefully. “It used to be pretty decent.”

“That makes two of us.” Nino then noticed the aroma that was wafting into the narrow hallway, before tracing it to the bag in Aiba’s hand. “And what do you have there?” asked Nino, pointing. Nino could smell meat, but he couldn’t identify what it was exactly.

“Shougayaki,” said Aiba. “There’s a restaurant nearby that I like, and I thought I’d bring you some takeout for lunch.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“It’s still kinda early, so let’s eat later.” Aiba poked his head past the door that led to Nino’s living room. “Where’s your dining table?”

“I don’t have one.” Nino slid open a door in the hallway, revealing the kitchen. “Here, put it by the sink.”

Aiba disappeared into the kitchen; Nino covered his face with his hands before dragging his fingers down his cheeks, trying get over how sweet Aiba was and how much he liked him being around. 

Nino wondered if having him over was a bad idea; he might not get any work done.

The kitchen had two doors, the larger one opening up to the living area; Nino pushed them apart to join Aiba in the kitchen, and he invited Aiba to have a seat on the sofa while he opened the fridge in search of a drink to serve.

“Is this apartment new?” asked Aiba, taking off his backpack and settling himself on the couch as he inspected the wallpaper. “The finishings look so fresh.”

Nino set glasses and a tall bottle of barley tea on the coffee table in front of Aiba. “Yeah, it was built a couple years ago. But I’m on a limited period contract, so when the lease expires in March I have to move.”

“That’s too bad. It’s a nice place.”

“No, it works out for me, actually. I’d been living in a one-room apartment before moving to this one and it was kind of cramped so I thought I needed a bigger place; but after a year and a half here I think what I need isn’t space, but compartmentalisation. I’m just going to look for a smaller two-room apartment next year. It’ll save me a bit of money too.”

“I get what you mean.” Aiba pointed to Nino’s workstation. “You don’t need this much space, even if you do have two pianos and a computer.”

“Yes.” Nino got up from his haunches. “So—want to hear some really depressing tunes?”

Aiba obliged, and Nino spent the next half hour playing for Aiba and explaining the client’s requirements for the piece. Aiba claimed he didn’t know much about music, but Nino found it refreshing because he’d never really let anyone who wasn’t a musician listen to his pieces while they were still being written. Aiba gave some fascinating opinions, like asking why ‘the silence wasn’t longer’ (Nino prolonged the rest on that part) and, while following the lyrics, pointed out that the syllables were really stretched out in a certain passage (Nino then tweaked the music to fit the words).

They then broke for lunch, when Nino discovered Aiba had given up piano lessons when he was six—he performed at one recital, aced it, and never touched piano again.

“So you don’t play any musical instruments?” asked Nino as they sat cross legged on opposite sides of the coffee table, stuffing their faces with pork and rice.

“I dabble.” Aiba looked like he didn’t want to say what he played, but Nino’s curiosity was killing him.

“In what?”

“They’re not orchestra instruments or anything, and it’s not like I can play them super well.”

Aiba had averted his eyes from Nino to look down at his food, and Nino’s heart was about to burst because Aiba being shy (in glasses!) was just about the cutest thing ever.

“Tell me what you play,” demanded Nino.

“Nah.”

Nino stretched one of his legs to prod Aiba’s calf under the table, and Aiba laughed before trying to grab Nino’s foot, but Nino was too fast for him.

“Okay, fine—I can play the harmonica.”

“Harmonica,” said Nino, grinning.

“Yeah.”

“The good old suck and blow,” said Nino, before closing his lips over his chopsticks and pulling them out of his mouth with a puckering sound.

Aiba groaned. “ _Nino._ ”

“What? It’s how you play it!”

“Not like that.” Aiba pointed to Nino’s chopsticks, sporting a look of disdain.

Nino laughed. “So, only harmonica?”

“Well, I know a few chords on the guitar. I also played saxophone for a while in high school, then I got pneumothorax so my mum didn’t let me play anymore even though I looked so cool back then.”

“I bet you still look cool now,” said Nino innocently. “With your harmonica.”

“Go away, Nino.”

The afternoon went on with Nino composing the rest of the cantata and Aiba clearing his emails—he’d brought his laptop along—and when it started getting dark, Nino thought Aiba was going to leave; instead, he volunteered to go pick up some ingredients for dinner, if Nino didn’t mind him cooking at his house.

“I don’t, but the utensils…” Nino trailed off, casting a forlorn look at the kitchen. “You could go have a look under the sink and see if there’s anything you can use.”

Aiba went into the kitchen and peered into the cupboard under the sink.

“You have a pot and a knife,” said Aiba after a while. “I could make curry.”

“I love curry!” said Nino brightly.

“Okay. Be back in a bit.”

“Aiba-kun, you’ve been feeding me a lot recently,” called Nino over his shoulder, as Aiba put on his shoes in the entryway.

“Would you like me to stop?” asked Aiba.

“God, no,” said Nino, laughing.

Nino wanted badly to watch Aiba cook—it had become a thing, plus those forearms—but he still had a lot to do, and was stuck at the piano for most of the time Aiba was in the kitchen. Still, he was progressing a lot faster than when Aiba hadn’t been around; Nino snorted on a giggle as he thought about how maybe Aiba was his muse.

Later, as Nino got up from the piano to see Aiba standing by the stove, tasting the curry with a spoon, he realised that this was the kind of life he wanted. He wasn’t sure if it was Aiba who was making him feel this way, or if it was simply having someone at home he could rely on, someone who took care of him without needing any heavy emotional investment on his part—

Nino caught himself. He sounded like he needed a mother, not Aiba.

“What?” asked Aiba as he noticed Nino standing in the doorway, staring at him.

Nino then stepped into the kitchen and stood beside Aiba, putting an arm around him. He patted Aiba’s shoulder twice.

“Thanks, Mum.”

Aiba kneed him on the side of his butt and told him to get out of the kitchen.

Throughout dinner, Nino wondered how he was going to work when Aiba went home. He still had two more movements to compose (including all the SATB parts), and after those were done he had to come up with the orchestral accompaniment. There was still a ton to do.

“So, Aiba-kun,” said Nino, as casually as he could, “what’ll you be up to tomorrow?”

Aiba stopped chewing to answer. “Work, I guess. At our agency every photographer is responsible for their own marketing, so there’s always something to do.”

“I see.” Nino chased a piece of carrot onto his rice. “So you’re heading down to the office?”

“I could, but I think I might stay home. I only need my computer, after all.”

Nino saw his chance. “You have your computer.”

“Uh huh…” Aiba frowned, not getting it. Nino sighed into his bowl, angling his forehead on the heel of his palm. Aiba picked the worst moments to be slow.

Nino eventually raised his head. “Never mind. Go on,” Nino waved his spoon over Aiba’s rice, “finish your food.”

Aiba returned to his curry, bewildered. Nino cursed his lack of nerve to ask Aiba directly, and resigned himself to the process of working without his muse.

Five seconds later, something clicked.

“Are you asking me to stay over?” Aiba was stifling a grin, and Nino felt terribly embarrassed. He didn’t have to spell it out like that.

“I wasn’t,” denied Nino, “I was just curious about your plans.”

“Oh, Nino.” Aiba leant across the coffee table, smirking. “You said I should get used to you, and I have. You want me to stay.”

“Okay, fine!” Nino burst out. “I work better with you around, all right? The ideas come faster.”

Aiba didn’t bother hiding his grin. Nino looked away.

“So it’s just about work?” asked Aiba, and Nino could tell what his real question was.

“Yes,” said Nino. “Of course.” They had rules, and he was going to adhere to them.

Aiba drew back, nodding slowly. “Fine. I could do with an all-nighter myself. You have no idea how backlogged I am with the admin work.”

***

It was almost daybreak, and Nino was watching Aiba sleep.

After dinner, Nino had plugged his headphones into his electric piano and worked for two hours straight before he decided he needed a break; he invited Aiba to play _Narratage_ with him, this video game that had them trying to build a story with the end goal of selling a graphic novel to a publisher. (Their plot centred on a married high school teacher who fell in love with his ex-student; it was completely scandalous, and Nino got chills when Aiba pointed out how much the main character ‘looked like Kento’s dad’, and wasn’t he a married high school teacher?)

Aiba had continued with his business proposal after they completed the game—Nino had picked it because it was one of those games that could be finished in two hours, tops—and Nino had gone back to his cantata. It was only now that he noticed Aiba had fallen asleep on the couch, spectacles askew on his nose.

Nino hoped it wasn’t too creepy that he was hovering over Aiba, watching the way his chest rose and fell, noticing the length of his lashes and the curves of his lips, the way his features had been darkened by his five o’clock shadow. Nino absent-mindedly touched his fingers to his own chin, feeling the stubble. Aiba looked better than he did with facial hair. Nino felt jealous, but weirdly also proud, that Aiba was so attractive.

It wasn’t that Nino was insecure about his appearance. He knew he was good-looking—it was hard to miss, when his entire life people had told him that straight in the face—but he also knew he had flaws. He believed he mostly made up for it with his personality, but sometimes he would wonder what it was about him that appealed to people.

He wasn’t particularly considerate, nor was he extremely generous. He could be kinder. He could exercise more (not just for his visuals—more for his health). He should be a better son: Aiba had mentioned he visited Chiba regularly; Nino’s parents were lucky if he visited them twice in a year, and they lived in Tokyo.

Nino couldn’t help but wonder if he was good enough for Aiba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was quite a bit of music nerdery in this one, buried within Jun and Nino's conversation especially. I wasn't a music major but I admire them (and have many friends who were music majors), so that conversation was an imagination of how they would speak to each other lol.
> 
> Some music stuff to share:
> 
> A cantata, put very simply, is a sung musical piece with orchestral accompaniment. Its instrumental counterpart is the sonata. Back in the day it was popular in churches, and Bach and Telemann composed a great deal of them.
> 
> Lydian mode is a type of musical scale that tends to feature a lot in old school Nintendo video game music. It's kind of dreamy and evokes that brave new world kind of feeling. (Go YouTube it if you're interested!)
> 
> Full diminished sevenths: this is a little hard to explain in text, but very very simply put, it's a dissonant chord. That's why it sounds 'sad' in the context of Western classical music.
> 
> A fugue is a way of writing music, and it was most popular in J.S. Bach's time. Nino said he 'needed a fugue' because Bach is famous for his cantatas (which has fugues in them) and thus it's natural to think of fugues when you're writing a cantata.


	5. Midnight Screening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nino and Aiba go to an escape room theme park as friends, and emerge from the date something more.

“Welcome to Funnect Parks’ Horrortown series Volume One: _Midnight Screening_ ,” chirped the guide as she spoke to the group in the dimly-lit room. “There are five chambers that players have to go through. Each one is darker than the first, so we recommend you give yourselves a few seconds to get used to the lighting upon entering every room. Within each room are puzzles that you have to solve to proceed to the next chamber, and there will be a buzzer,” she paused to let the buzzer sound, “to signal when to start and when to stop. You will hear three audio prompts before your time is up: one minute before, thirty seconds before, and ten seconds before. There will also be instructions given via the sound system upon every entry to involve you in the storyline and guide you to your clues. If you experience any discomfort during the course of the game and wish to leave the room, please snap the case located on the inside of your wristband until you hear a click,” she flipped her own wristband with expert ease, showing it to the group, “to activate your locator tool. A member of the staff will then approach you and show you to the exit.”

“I’m impressed,” said Nino, as the guide paused to catch her breath, “this is all very high tech.”

“Funnect’s rich,” said Aiba simply.

Nino and Aiba had managed to reschedule their escape room date to the second last day of August. It was a Friday afternoon, and the crowd wasn’t too bad. They had expected more people, given that Funnect’s escape room—which wasn’t just one escape room, there were 10 in the building, all multi-chambered affairs like _Midnight Screening_ —was doing very well.

Aiba’s ticket entitled them access to all 10 of the rooms, each one with a different theme. They weren’t sure they had the stamina to complete all of them and decided to pick a unanimous favourite and a personal favourite. They narrowed their choices to the scary room, the Indiana Jones-type adventure room, and the submarine room (Nino agreed to go after the staff had assured him it wasn’t the kind of attraction that got people seasick).

They decided to tackle the scary one first because it was only available until mid-September and therefore the most popular, and at 60 minutes, it required less time than the other two. Nino and Aiba thus found themselves in a team of eight, the other six people strangers to them, though not to each other. They were chattering and commenting on the briefing as the guide talked, and Nino reckoned they were all in high school.

Aiba seemed nervous—he claimed he wasn’t good at solving puzzles—but Nino reminded him that the game required at least two people to perform every task, so Aiba would never be on his own.

The guide left, and the room was plunged into complete darkness for a moment—then a screen lit up, and a woman in bloodstained rags with a gaunt face appeared to inform them they were in a movie theatre, she was an actress, and they had an hour to get out before they suffered the same fate she had. A girl in the six-member party jumped and pressed her face into her taller friend’s arm when the woman on screen screamed at the end of her introduction, and Nino pulled on Aiba’s shoulder to whisper in his ear:

“Yo, Aiba. Don’t get scared.”

“Never,” Aiba whispered back. Then he taunted: “Are _you_ scared, Ninomiya? I could hold your hand.”

Nino snorted. “You wish.”

As it turned out, _Midnight Screening_ was more challenging than frightening, and Nino could see why it was shorter than the other games. The puzzles weren’t exceptionally difficult, but because the lighting got dimmer and dimmer, their eyes could never really adjust to the dark, making the clues harder to find. There were mini-challenges which involved finding and switching on light sources which only gave them mere seconds of illumination, and by the time they completed the fourth room they were all keeping as close to the walls as they could.

“You okay?” asked Nino, as he saw Aiba mopping his brow with a towel. Nino had noticed Aiba tended to perspire a lot, and Aiba himself was quite self-conscious about it. He always carried a towel around, and when he’d come over the day Nino had to pull an all-nighter, he'd actually brought a spare change of clothes. Nino had teased him about hoping to stay over, and Aiba, though he tried not to show it, had gotten upset at the accusation. It taught Nino that even Aiba could have his buttons pushed, and Nino made a mental note to be more sensitive next time.

“Yeah, just sort of excited. And anxious.” Aiba chuckled. “It’d be awful if we never got out.”

The door to the fifth room opened, and the players found themselves in a narrow corridor with four doors. Once again, a screen lit up, showing their trusty dead actress.

The instructions were simple: in pairs, they were to enter each of the four rooms ahead. Each room had a different puzzle, and every challenge required a combination of brain and brawn. Each completed challenge would produce a clue that, when combined with the clues from beyond the other three doors, would destroy the evil spirit. It seemed innocent enough, until a contraption in the ceiling above them opened and dropped a box onto the floor, startling all of them. A couple of people even yelped.

“What are these?” someone said, inching nearer to the box.

“Night vision goggles,” said somebody else, raking through the contents. “Guys, I think it’s going to be pitch black in there.”

The girl who had hidden her face in her friend’s arm earlier called everyone’s attention to the screen, which was now showing the words: _Brains, put on the goggles. Brawn, watch your step._

Nino and Aiba exchanged a look.

“Brains,” said Aiba, pointing to Nino, before pointing to himself.

“Brawn,” they both said, nodding.

There was a quick round of rock-paper-scissors, and Nino and Aiba got the room on the far left. They wished the other pairs luck, pushed past the door, and got cloaked in a perfect darkness.

Nino’s goggles were on his head, and he quickly flipped them down over his eyes. He let out a gasp as he realised they were on one side of a chasm: the floor of the room seemed to have broken apart, and the cavity beneath was filled with broken glass, bloodied syringes and rusty nails, amongst other unpleasant things. They probably weren’t real—there was some beautiful state-of-the-art technology going on in the goggles—but were convincing enough to make Nino’s skin crawl.

“Nino, what’s going on?” Aiba found Nino’s shoulder. “I can’t even see my hands.”

“Hang on, I’m still figuring it out.”

On the other side of the hellish amalgamation of horror movie props was a gleaming card set on the wall—their clue—and connected to the space that they were standing on was a square platform which had arrow pointing right. On Nino’s left was a raised lectern-type structure; Nino climbed up its steps, noticing three buttons on the control panel—‘Forward’, ‘Backward’ and ‘Stop’—before picking up a laminated sheet that contained further instructions.

They both jumped when a physical barrier, about three feet high, shot up from the floor, separating Nino from Aiba.

“What was that?” asked Aiba, voice rising in panic.

“Walls. They erected walls between us to lock you within the game course. I can still see you though, they’re kinda low, and I’m on a platform that overlooks the entire thing.” Nino looked at the sheet of instructions. “You ready?”

“Go. We don’t have much time.”

“There’s a card on the other side of the room—and you can’t see it, but the ground underneath you is a hollow full of disgusting, dangerous-looking stuff—and you have to retrieve the card, cross the crevasse, and join me at the exit. There’s a small platform about a metre in front of you. Get on it.”

“I just walk forward?”

“Yeah. Put your hands out, you should be able to touch the railing.”

Aiba did as he was told, and he soon got onto the platform.

“I’m going to use the buttons on this control panel to move you backwards and forwards. I can stop you as well, though whenever your platform touches either the side of the room with the card or the side of the room where you started, it will stop automatically. Okay so far?”

“Yup, I’m following!”

“Great. There are islands I can move you to, where you can wave your hand over the sensor and rotate your platform ninety degrees clockwise to change its course. The power supply to my goggles will be cut after five minutes,” Nino balked at this, “but waving your hand over the islands can temporarily bring back my power for thirty seconds.” Nino read off the instructions: “ _Bear in mind that with every use of the sensors, your partner’s platform will be rotated ninety degrees clock-wise._ Crap.”

“Sounds mighty complicated, but you can do this, Nino!”

Nino took a while to digest the information. This meant he had to memorise where the islands were. He took another look at the floor—there were indeed three prominent balusters, standing apart from each other, at different distances from Aiba.

“I’m going to move you now,” called Nino.

“Okay!” Aiba gripped the railing tighter, and Nino hit the ‘Forwards’ button, launching Aiba into motion.

The square platform didn’t always come up right beside the balusters; for one of them, the square locked on to a longer platform that required Aiba to get off and walk towards the sensor. It took a few tries for Nino to line the platforms up, and a bit of coaxing for Aiba to put one foot in front of the other to reach the sensor.

“This is scary!” moaned Aiba after he successfully rotated his platform. 

“Trust me,” called Nino, biting down on his laugh as he watched Aiba flail for his railing. “Yes, that’s it, just take two steps forward and you’ll be on the square again.”

Nino decided he had a fair grasp of the grid that the square seemed to be moving in, and when his goggles powered down he figured he could get Aiba to the card and back with only one swipe of a sensor.

“Aiba-kun, you’re moving backwards, right?”

“Right!”

“When you feel the square stop, I need you to step off to your left and walk backwards. Grope the wall to your left until you feel the card, take it, and retrace your steps so you are directly in front of your square. You got it?”

“Left, backwards, forwards, right. Got it!”

Nino counted off in his head before bringing his hand down on the ‘Stop’ button, and hoped to heaven he’d calculated right.

There was silence for a few moments, and Nino was about to call out to check on Aiba when Aiba’s voice floated over.

“Got the card!”

“Nice job!” shouted Nino, clapping.

“Dropped the card!” roared Aiba a second later, making Nino wilt.

“Can you find it?”

“I don’t—okay! Found it!” Aiba paused. “Shit, where’s the platform?”

Nino groaned. “Okay—the area you’re standing on has an edge, right? I need you to feel the edge until your hand touches the part where your platform meets it.”

Nino felt a lot more anxious now that they were both unable to see. While the chasm of sharp objects was definitely not a chasm, there was a definite drop between where Aiba was and the bottom of the floor; Nino was afraid Aiba might get hurt if he missed a step.

“Yes!” shouted Aiba. “I found the platform! Getting on!”

Nino jumped to the control panel, fumbling for the ‘Backward’ button. “Make sure the railing is on your left, okay? The sensor will be on your right, so you’ve gotta stretch your right hand out as far as you can to reach it. This is important, Aiba-kun—once you miss it, that’s it. We’ll be out of time.”

“Oh, man.” Aiba let out a nervous laugh.

“Once your square rotates, I’ll be able to see you, and I’m going to switch your movement to ‘Forward’ so you come over to my side again. I’m not going to stop you when your square rotates, so I need you to hang on tight. And for goodness’ sake don’t drop the card!”

“I won’t,” yelled Aiba. “Go, go, go!”

Nino actually started praying after he hit the button, and spent five agonising seconds wondering why they were doing this to themselves before his goggles powered on again.

“Hitting ‘Forward’!” shouted Nino, feeling inexplicable joy as Aiba came into view.

Aiba let out a cry of surprise as the square lunged forward, almost throwing him off balance. Nino made sure Aiba was okay before running down the steps to stand by the barrier; according to the instructions they were supposed to sink back down when the player returned to the starting point with the card in his hand.

“You’ve got the exit?” called Aiba, a tremor in his voice.

“Yeah, it was right in front of the control panel,” said Nino, shifting his weight impatiently from foot to foot as the platform carrying Aiba came closer.

“ _Players, you have one minute left_ ,” announced a disembodied voice.

“God, I’m scared,” muttered Aiba, stumbling as the platform bumped against the side of the room Nino was on, and the walls descended as promised.

“Give me your hand,” said Nino, and he saw Aiba look towards him, hand outstretched, trying to search for his voice—then his goggles powered down.

Nino took a step forward and clutched air once; Aiba then called his name, and Nino managed to grasp Aiba’s hand.

“This way,” breathed Nino, tugging Aiba towards the exit, not daring to move too fast for fear of crashing into something. Soon his hand found the cool metal of the door handle, and they burst out into a room that was as dim as the one they’d started in, with more than 30 seconds to spare.

“The card, the card,” reminded Nino as he took off his goggles, and Aiba placed the card into a velveteen tray that still had spaces for three other cards before exchanging a look of wide-eyed wonder with Nino as he realised they were first.

Aiba held up his hands for a double high five, and Nino returned the gesture, interlocking their fingers. Nino then brought his arms down, but Aiba didn’t let go of his hands.

“Nino,” said Aiba slowly, “you never said anything about holding hands. Are we allowed to?”

Despite his adrenaline high, Nino found the sensibility to hesitate; handholding had always been something so arbitrary in the past that it hadn’t occurred to him to classify it as physical intimacy. But Aiba had brought up a valid point, and since Nino was the rule-maker, he had to decide if they should make the concession.

Two teams burst from the doors at the same time, making Nino tear his hands out of Aiba’s to point at the card tray. They frantically slapped their cards into the receptacle, and for a moment everyone just froze, waiting for something to happen, when they all realised there was one team left.

The air was thick with worry as everyone kept their eyes on the last door, and Aiba clasped his hands together in prayer. The last team had mere seconds to complete the mission, if they could just come out now—

The buzzer sounded, and the door remained shut.

On screen, the dead actress wailed and vowed vengeance on those who had harmed her, then cackled wickedly about having new flesh to consume to sustain her until she fulfilled that endeavour. The scene ended with her flying towards them with her teeth bared and clawed hands outstretched.

The lights were turned up a notch, and the pair that had been stuck in their room appeared, shrieking to their friends about how their room had to be the most difficult, and how they’d read the instructions and sat it out without even trying because it was ‘too impossible’. Their friends just laughed it off, saying they could always try Volume Two when it came out. Then the same guide who had brought them into the room appeared from behind a curtain.

“Thank you for participating in Funnect Parks’ Horrortown series Volume One: _Midnight Screening_ ,” chirped the guide, pulling aside the curtain to reveal an open door, which led out to a landing. “We hope you enjoyed your experience! Please place your goggles into the box by the exit as you leave. We ask that you leave by this staircase as it introduces light in increasing intensity, which will help your eyes adjust to the light levels of the rest of the building. Photos of you in-game may be found at the souvenir centre at the bottom of the stairs, retailing at a thousand eight hundred yen per print. We hope you come again, and thank you very much for choosing Funnect Parks.”

Nino wasn’t sure what bothered him more—the anticlimactic end to their thrilling adventure; the bitter reminder of it being all a farce when the guide came in to make a sales pitch; the abysmal performance of the last pair which cost them the best ending for their storyline; the indifference of the other pairs to that failure; or that he hadn’t yet answered Aiba about the handholding.

“Hey.” Aiba nudged Nino’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Nino shrugged, slowing his pace. He dropped his voice, keeping his opinions out of earshot of the other players. “Disappointed, I guess. It was super fun, and then it became dumb super fast. Did you hear how those two practically bragged about their failure with zero remorse?”

Aiba laughed, good-natured as always, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “They’re just kids, but I hear you. I feel the same way.”

They continued traipsing down the stairs. Nino stole a look at Aiba, wondering if he was going to say more. When he didn’t, Nino knew.

When the last of the people in their team were out of sight, Nino hooked his hand on the crook of Aiba’s elbow.

“Wait. I need to tell you something.”

Aiba stopped on the step below Nino’s; at this height, Nino didn’t have to look up at him. They were level for once.

“The ending might have sucked, but it wasn’t your fault. It was theirs,” Nino jabbed a thumb towards the high schoolers who had just exited the stairwell, “so don’t feel bad for bringing me here, or for suggesting the date or whatever. I did have fun,” Nino met Aiba’s gaze, “and I like being around you. That’s the point of this whole thing.”

Aiba was smiling now. Nino liked all of Aiba’s smiles, but this was the one Nino particularly favoured. It was subdued, only just revealing the dimple in his cheek, and he couldn’t keep his front teeth out of it. Nino liked it because it was born of reflex, not of consideration, and it was one of the most genuine things Aiba could ever offer him.

“Come on,” said Nino, seizing Aiba’s hand. “We’ve got two more rooms to do.”

A laugh bubbled out of Aiba; he folded his fingers against Nino’s and pulled Nino closer to nuzzle Nino's shoulder with his forehead, catching Nino by surprise. Nino didn’t even have time to make a quip when Aiba turned and started bounding down the stairs, Nino in tow.

Nino called Aiba an idiot and yelled at him to slow down before he broke his ankle, but truth be told: Nino was too happy to care.

***

They sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the bench in front of the ice-cream shop by the souvenir centre, sharing a double scoop in a cup. It was a very teenage couple-y thing to do and Nino had refused at first, pointing out that they were way too old for this kind of thing, but Aiba had just given him the kind of look a patient parent would give their petulant child. Nino then threw his hands up in the air, giving in.

“Ow,” said Aiba, as their elbows clacked for the second time. “Nino, use your right hand to hold the spoon.”

“I don’t want to. I’m left-handed,” said Nino, clutching his jaw as he got a brain freeze.

“I know, but you write with your right hand. You should be perfectly capable of using a spoon,” argued Aiba, and Nino thought it was ridiculous how pleased he was to find out Aiba had noticed something so inconsequential about him.

“You were the one who wanted to share a cup,” Nino shot back, switching his spoon to his right hand anyway.

Aiba provided no retort; he just gave Nino a maddening grin, which made Nino wonder how Aiba kept getting his way, and why on earth Nino kept letting him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing in his pocket, and he fished out his phone to see Sakurai Sho requesting a video call.

“Huh.” Nino turned to Aiba. “Okay if I take this?”

“Go ahead.”

Nino swiped his finger across the screen, and Sho’s enormous face popped up.

“Hi, Nino. Whatcha doing?”

“I’m with a friend, actually.” Nino laughed as Sho came even closer to the camera. “What time is it for you over there?”

“Five in the afternoon,” answered Sho, grinning.

Nino checked the clock in the corner of his screen. “Wait—you’re in Japan?”

Another face joined Sho’s on the screen.

“Hey,” greeted Jun. “What’s up, Nino? Happy birthday to me!”

“Why are you guys together? Where’s—”

Ohno wormed his way in-between Sho’s and Jun’s faces. “Hi, Nino!”

“Are you guys drunk?” exclaimed Nino. He threw a glance at Aiba, who was listening to the exchange in interest.

“Drunk, jet-lagged, drunk and jet-lagged,” said Sho, pointing to Jun, himself and Ohno in succession. “We got off the plane and I remembered it was Matsujun’s birthday, and Satoshi was like ‘We should call him’, so we did, and somehow we’re at a bar near his house.”

“We called to apologise for not asking you along,” added Ohno, “Matsujun said you were not to be disturbed.”

An ironic statement, given how they were calling Nino during his date. Nino hooded his eyes with his hand, feeling the heat creep up his cheeks. Aiba didn’t have to hear that.

There was a tap on Nino’s shoulder, and he looked up.

“Let me talk to them,” mouthed Aiba, and since Nino had no dignity left to lose, he gave his phone to Aiba.

“Hi,” said Aiba good-naturedly as he waved. “This is Aiba. Happy birthday, Matsumoto-san.”

There was a commotion on the other side of the line which included Sho’s phone being passed around and a lot of cackling on his part (“So this is what you meant when you said Nino shouldn’t be disturbed!”). Nino dunked his face in both his hands. His friends were so stupid.

“Oh-chan?” called Aiba. Nino leant backwards to peer at the screen over Aiba’s shoulder; it was swivelling from portrait to landscape to portrait again, and it finally stabilised to show a grinning Ohno.

“Aiba-chan,” Ohno slurred. “I’m home! For good!”

“Welcome home.” Aiba laughed. “Listen, Nino and I are in the middle of something, so we’ll call you back later, all right?”

“Okay!”

“Sorry, Nino!” called Sho from somewhere out of frame. “I should’ve known better!”

“I did tell them not to call you,” said Jun half-heartedly, looking completely out of it as he slumped against the screen behind him.

“Bye,” said Nino resolutely, reaching over Aiba’s arm to tap the screen and end the call.

“Good Lord,” Nino moaned into Aiba’s back, “why are these people my friends?”

“Our friends,” reminded Aiba. “They’re just concerned, Nino. It’s okay.” Aiba got up to throw the empty ice-cream cup away, then returned to his seat beside Nino.

Nino tilted his body to look at Aiba head-on. “I don’t tell Jun-kun every single thing, you know.”

“I know.” Aiba gave Nino his favourite lopsided smile. “But you do talk to him about me?”

“Yeah,” confessed Nino.

Aiba pondered upon this for a moment.

“Nino, I don’t think we should just be friends.” 

Nino stared at Aiba, unblinking. “It’s too soon, Aiba-kun. This is only the second time we’re hanging out. Well, third, if the work session counts.”

“I’m not saying we should be lovers right away. I’m just saying we can’t call ourselves friends anymore, regardless of whether or not we’re going to be an actual couple. I like you, Nino, and I know you like me too. Even our friends know that. This thing that’s going on between us…” Aiba pursed his lips, looking tense. “We’re just not friends anymore. Friends don’t talk about not kissing. They don’t go on dates and hold hands and share ice-cream from the same cup.”

Nino could feel panic rising in his throat. He thought he’d been pacing this ‘just friends’ thing right, but Aiba apparently thought otherwise.

“This is why we have the rules,” said Nino weakly. “We should have made rules for handholding and eating ice-cream. My bad.”

A sigh escaped Aiba, the impatient kind that came out of his nose, the one Nino was constantly subject to when he made a joke at the most inappropriate of times.

“Question, Nino—if we didn’t have all the rules, would you be willing to do all that stuff with me?”

"What, the touching?"

"Yeah."

“I don’t know,” said Nino helplessly, looking away.

“You _would_ , Nino.” Aiba touched his arm. “Why are you so reluctant to admit it?”

Nino sighed, rubbing his face, trying to arrange his thoughts. He didn’t want to tell Aiba he wanted the kind of thing Sho and Jun had with their spouses; he didn’t want to scare Aiba off like that. That was some serious stuff. He also wasn’t sure he would sound convincing admitting it, especially since he’d been quite clear about how he didn’t have the best track record when it came to romantic relationships. It was kind of lame to say he wanted Aiba because he didn’t want to be lonely anymore. That sounded like a really great way to make Aiba feel like a tool.

It wasn’t like Nino had never thought about asking Aiba to be his boyfriend. On the contrary, it was pretty much the first thing he’d think about whenever he met Aiba, but it was a notion he’d quash and shove to the back of his mind. Aiba had been the guy who’d managed to keep an eight-year relationship going; no matter what he’d said about not trying harder to keep his ex, it didn’t change the fact that he was obviously better at loving someone than Nino was.

“I’m not good at this.” Nino took a deep breath. “I’ve never really done this ‘let’s-get-to-know-each-other-as-friends-first’ thing. It’s always been a headfirst dive into touching and romance and sex, and I don’t know how else to put it across, but I don’t want that anymore and the only way I know how to avoid it is to, well, avoid it.”

They shared a long silence, unbearable enough to drown the laughter of the other patrons, to deaden the shuddering bass beats of the mass-oriented music. There was nothing else for Nino to say. It’d all sound like noise if he tried.

His heart skipped a beat when Aiba took his hand.

“You’ve thrown yourself in the deep end on purpose.” Aiba’s eyes were kind, and his voice was kinder. “I know it’s because you want to be better at this relationship thing, and strategy-wise this makes the most sense to you. But you can’t have a relationship by yourself, Nino. I’m in here with you, as Player Two, and you can’t just ignore me. You’ve gotta tell me when you’re in trouble, so I can, I dunno, give you lives or something.”

Nino could only nod. Aiba was right.

“Anyway, I’m sorry for talking about all this here,” said Aiba. “We should’ve done this somewhere more private.”

“It’s okay,” said Nino, squeezing Aiba’s hand. “I think we needed this talk. _I_ needed this talk.”

Aiba gave Nino a hesitant nod. “Since we’re being upfront with each other, could I just get one more thing off my chest?”

“Yeah?”

“It really bothered me just now, when you said you were ‘with a friend’,” said Aiba softly. “Sakurai-kun knows me too.”

Nino felt like an idiot. So that was what sparked all this honesty.

“I’m sorry, Aiba-kun.”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“The next time I introduce you I’ll call you my extra special, recently upgraded, but not-yet-lover friend.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Just ‘Aiba’ would do.”

Nino threw back his head and laughed, and when Aiba rolled his eyes at him, Nino knew they were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this was totally a nod to the VS Arashi episode where Aiba was led out of the pitch black room. It was also inspired by the Himitsu no Arashi-chan Haunted House episodes. Oh, and special mention to the first Mario RPG game for the escape room puzzle idea! Not the exact same thing, but definitely based on many a fun hour spent on my DS.


	6. It's a magical song, can you be nice?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sho and Ohno are back in Japan, and Nino and Aiba help them move into their house.

“Oh my God, Sho-chan—you kept this!” cried Nino, holding up a snow globe he’d bought Sho while on vacation in Hokkaido once.

“Wow. I haven’t seen that in a long time.” Sho picked it up and turned it over, grinning as he watched the glitter swirl and tumble about the tiny figurines of the bear, crab and plate of uni sashimi that, in Nino’s opinion, so represented Hokkaido. He then put it back in Nino’s hand.

“Chuck it.”

“You heartless bastard,” said Nino, aghast.

“I’m kidding,” Sho laughed, pointing to another box near Nino’s feet. “Open that box and put it in there.”

Nino squatted, pen knife at the ready, when he noticed the box was marked ‘Snow globes: 2034—2036’. He looked up at Sho.

“Please don’t tell me you have two years’ worth of snow globes in here.”

“I have two years' worth of snow globes in there.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“They’re pretty?”

“Oh, Sho-chan.”

“Satoshi goes fishing, you game, Matsujun maintains bonsai…” Sho shrugged. “I collect snow globes.”

“You sure do,” muttered Nino, opening the box. There had to be about thirty snow globes in there, each wrapped in paper and surrounded by foam peanuts.

Sho and Ohno were moving into their new house, and it was an ambitious effort: they were consolidating years and years of accumulated belongings into a limited number of shared spaces. There was so much to do that Sho had asked Nino if he could help, and Nino had agreed on account that Sho returned the favour when Nino moved in March.

Although the married couple had thrown, sold and given away what they could before they moved back to Japan, there was still a lot to unpack, since it wasn’t just what they brought back from America; many of the boxes contained things from their parents’ homes, mostly items that had been put away while they'd been overseas, dropped off by their parents at their new place. The snow globe from Hokkaido was case in point.

“How about Aiba-kun?” asked Sho as he sorted through a box of clarinet scale compilations. “What are his hobbies?”

Nino thought for a moment. “He likes sports, I think.”

“You _think_?”

“Yeah, he mentioned something about baseball.” Nino pulled out a superhero costume from the box the Hokkaido snow globe came from. “Do you still want this?”

Noncommittally, Sho grabbed the costume and tossed it into the bag they’d designated for the recycle shop. “Nino, are you telling me you don’t know your boyfriend’s hobbies?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Sho just stared.

“He’s the guy I’m going out with. We’re friends-but-not-yet-boyfriends,” amended Nino.

“Because of the no-touching thing?”

“No; we’re not boyfriends yet, _that’s why_ we have the no-touching thing. It’s the other way around.”

Sho put down the hardbound Mozart concerto he’d unearthed from his box. “Is everything okay? When we called you the other day it seemed like things were going really well.”

“They were. And everything’s okay, really. I like him, he likes me. We’re good.”

“So why the purism?”

“I don’t know.” Nino sliced open another box. “When I think ‘boyfriend’, I think of a guy I have loads in common with, a guy I can touch without having to think twice, a guy who cracks me up so hard I clap when I laugh, a guy who sweeps me off my feet with grand gestures. Aiba-kun is... not that guy.”

“Who is he, then?”

“He’s just… Aiba-kun.” Nino let out a short laugh when Sho twisted his features into a confounded look. “He’s not particularly funny, not particularly romantic, but he is, as Ohno-kun said, extremely nice.”

Sho paused, squinting at Nino. “He’s my husband’s best friend. I’ve totally heard about how boring he is.”

“I’m not saying he’s boring!” Nino threw some foam peanuts at Sho, and burst out laughing when Sho deadpanned and took the attack head-on. “I guess Aiba-kun is… Aiba-kun is someone who gesticulates a lot, and honestly when I’m beside him I have to worry about whether I’ll get hit in the face. He has this _laugh_ —it can leap from G-sharp-four to B-four and sort of spasm on that note, yes, it’s that high—and it drives me crazy sometimes because it garbles his words, but I kind of get the gist so it’s not as annoying as it sounds. He’s only patient when he knows he has to wait, but God help us when there’s something else on the agenda—like the next level of a game or moving to another destination—he gets completely restless and you gotta remind him to calm down and focus on the task at hand.”

“Chill, Nino. You don’t have to downplay his awesomeness.”

“I’m not. You asked me who he is. I just told you the truth.”

Sho chuckled, shoulders shaking. “Right.” He threw more things into the recycling pile before turning to Nino, a mystifying smile on his face. “You remember when we were in our last semester at conservatory, you asked me out but I said no, because you’re more like a brother to me?”

Nino raised his eyebrows; he remembered, but he hadn’t expected Sho to as well.

“That was half in jest, you know that, right?” asked Nino.

“Yeah, I know; but frankly, the brotherly feelings weren’t my reason for saying no. I definitely considered it, more than once in fact, but I just couldn’t bring myself to date you. You were good-looking and eloquent and smart, but you were also so, _so_ self-centred.”

Nino averted his eyes and stuck out his tongue to show his remorse, but his antics weren’t just a farce; the words stung, coming from Sho.

Sho continued: “I didn’t get it; you treated your friends right, but when it came to the guys you dated, you were like a different person. When things went great, you were constantly walking on air; but when things got even just a little rocky, you’d immediately break things off, and very quickly you’d start something with someone new. I couldn’t imagine being involved with you—it’d hurt so much.” Sho reached out a hand to squish Nino’s cheeks together with his fingers. “I’m sorry if this is hard to swallow; I’m aware I sound like a sanctimonious prick.”

Nino had to laugh at Sho’s choice of words.

“But you’ve changed, Nino. It’s both frightening and amazing to watch.” Sho sighed despite his smile. “In mere weeks you’ve overturned your entire approach to relationships, and that’s great, but it’s also scary to see how unaware you are of how serious you are about this guy.”

“I’m not _serious_ about Aiba-kun,” Nino immediately said before he drew back, grimacing. “I mean, I’m not playing either, but…” Nino searched for the right words, and found none.

“Haven’t you noticed?” asked Sho, eager and disbelieving. “You don’t want to hurt him, so you made the no-touching rule. You know more about his flaws than his hobbies, but you’re sticking around because you don’t care that he’s imperfect.” Sho leant across the box that was between him and Nino, peering into Nino’s face like he was looking for something. “You’re trying the hardest I’ve ever seen you try, Nino; and I think it’s because deep down, you know he’s worth it.”

***

Upon Ohno’s request, Aiba came by the Ohno-Sakurai house in the afternoon to participate in the unpacking efforts and, more ostensibly, to see Nino. It’d been a week since their escape room date and Aiba’s schedule, which had him spend three days in Malaysia for work, had robbed them of their time together; when Aiba learnt that Nino was at Ohno and Sho’s, he agreed to go immediately.

Nino didn’t want to give Sho the satisfaction of being right—he wasn’t even sure if what he was feeling for Aiba was related to him being ‘worth it’—so he kept a chaste distance from Aiba the moment he arrived, busying himself with dusting and vacuuming the upper floor. This seemed to tickle Sho, and Nino caught Sho biting down on a grin when he saw Nino give Aiba a wide berth when he got too close in the hall. Even Ohno noticed Sho’s furtive glee: Nino overheard him asking Sho why he kept smiling to himself, and Sho smoothly denied ‘thinking about last night’. Nino had to stifle his laughter; Sho could be hysterical when he wanted to.

When Sho and Ohno stepped out to bring the flattened packing boxes to the recycling area at the supermarket, Aiba strode up to Nino, his face serious; Nino knew Aiba was going to ask why he was being so conspicuously abstinent.

“Nino, what’s going on? It’s like you’ve been avoiding me all afternoon.”

They’d been left in the living room, tasked with laying down the rug that was currently rolled up on the floor.

“It’s weird, with you around,” blurted Nino, and it was true; he wasn’t just making excuses. “They’re my friends, you’re my non-friend, and you guys are in the same space. This rarely happens.”

Aiba raised his eyebrows. “So you’ve never introduced anyone to Sakurai-kun in the past?”

“Maybe once or twice, and those had been because we happened to be at the same place at the same time. I just talk to my friends about guys; they don’t actually meet them.”

Aiba was looking perplexed. “But they know we’re going out. We had that video call, remember?”

“…It’s just weird.”

They exchanged stares, before a smile spread slowly across Aiba’s face.

“Nino, are you actually feeling shy?”

Nino was scandalised. “I’m not _shy_.”

“You are!” Aiba gave a shrill laugh, pointing a finger at Nino. “I thought it was something I did, but you’re just shy! God, I’m so relieved, you have no idea.”

“I’m not shy,” Nino insisted, though he could feel his ears getting warm, a telltale sign that he was embarrassed.

“Up until now I never really believed you could be.” Aiba took a step closer to Nino, reaching for the sides of his head and rubbing them as though he were a dog. “Aw, Ninomi. You’re so cute.”

Nino pushed Aiba away, face hot. “I can’t be bothered with you.” 

Nino had to endure Aiba’s self-satisfied smirk the entire time they were spreading out the rug and arranging furniture on it, and when Sho and Ohno returned they quickly noted Aiba’s high spirits as he bounded up to them and offered to bring the drinks they’d bought from the supermarket into the kitchen, humming a tune as he opened the fridge.

Wanting to avoid a potential questioning, Nino slunk away, but it was Sho’s house and he was found almost immediately.

“Hey,” said Sho, cornering him at the top of the stairs, “did he cop a feel or something? Want Satoshi and me to beat him up?”

“Very funny.” Nino sulked, pulling Sho into the study and closing the door so Aiba wouldn’t hear their conversation. “You’ve been enjoying yourself today, haven’t you, admiring the fish out of water?”

Sho laughed. “I don’t delight in your pain, Nino. I’m just amused. You like him a lot more than all of us thought. I know you’re feeling kind of shy that he’s here today, but Satoshi and I totally understand.”

Nino groaned loudly. “I swear, one more time somebody calls me shy…” Nino made a move to stomp away, but Sho trapped him in a one-armed hug.

“Don’t mind us, Nino.” Sho chuckled. “You’ll be fine.”

Nino poked Sho in the side to get him off of him, at the same time hoping like hell that Sho was right.

***

Unpacking the kitchen utensils had been on their list, but using them wasn’t—like Nino, Sho wasn’t too mad about cooking, and Aiba and Ohno weren’t in the mood to—so they ordered pizza for dinner.

The discomfiture Nino had experienced in the afternoon had eventually faded—the longer the four of them hung out together, the less awkward it became for Nino—and he was finally able to relax. Jokes were thrown about as they waited for the food to arrive, taking their final break from the unpacking and organising. Sho had done a great job with the inventory lists and furnishing plans; they’d managed to set up most of the house, even though it was only the first day.

When they sat down to dinner, Sho pointed out that this was the first time he was hanging out properly with Aiba—they’d only met a few times online prior to the wedding—and as the conversation progressed, they learnt that Aiba had never found out how Sho and Ohno had met.

Nino was floored. “How do you not know?”

“He’s super secretive about things like these,” said Aiba, gesturing at Ohno. “He just texted me one day with something like: ‘I think I’m going to ask my boyfriend to marry me.’ I didn’t even know he had a boyfriend.”

“That’s what most of his friends said when they met me,” said Sho with a laugh.

“Wait,” Ohno cut in, mouth full, “let’s see if Nino knows. Nino, how did Sho and I meet?”

Based on the demanding note in Ohno’s voice and the purposeful glance he threw in Sho’s direction, Nino had a feeling this was going to be some weird contest between Ohno and Sho to see who had the better friend. Ohno could be so unpredictable sometimes.

“You attended a concert Sho-chan performed in,” said Nino, prompting Sho to cheer and give him a high-five.

It was definitely a contest.

“No, wait,” protested Ohno, waving his can of beer at Aiba, “I told you that, didn’t I, Aiba-chan?”

“No, I don’t think you did,” said Aiba, furrowing his brow. Ohno deflated, and Nino could only laugh; it was just like Aiba to fail to notice Ohno and Sho had a game going on and he was on Team Ohno.

“Even if you did,” Nino spoke up, looking at Ohno, “does Aiba-kun know _how exactly_ you guys got together?”

“Ah, that’s a good one.” Sho shot Nino a look of approval before turning to Aiba. “Did Satoshi tell you?”

" _Satoshi_ didn't say." Aiba shook his head. “I just know you guys met in America.”

Sho turned to Ohno triumphantly. “I think Nino knows—”

“Let me tell my own story!” snapped Ohno, making Sho and Nino erupt into snorts. Ohno had been defeated in his own game.

Poor Aiba was looking quite confused—Nino made a mental note to explain to him later what had gone on—when Ohno shoved the rest of his pizza slice into his mouth and turned to him, asking gruffly: “Where do you want me to start?”

“From the beginning, of course.”

“The beginning. Okay.” Ohno paused. “Could you be more specific?”

Aiba seemed thrilled that Ohno was finally willing to talk. “The first time you saw him.”

“Okay.” Ohno scratched his nose, his expression purposefully neutral. “It was a work obligation—my boss was invited to the inauguration of a concert hall that had commissioned my firm for sculptures, but he couldn’t go, so he sent me instead. I’d been to classical music concerts before for work and they’d always been complete snooze fests, but for this particular one my boss warned me not to fall asleep because the client would be right beside me. I thought about what I could do to keep myself awake and came up with this weird idea of looking at every member of the orchestra for a whole minute until we broke for intermission, and that’s how I noticed Sho. I asked the client if he could introduce me to Sho after the concert, and he did.”

“Was it because you were struck by how handsome and talented he was on stage?” asked Aiba.

“No, he saw me sucking on my mouthpiece,” said Sho, not missing a beat. Ohno gave an embarrassed snort before shoving Sho on the shoulder. “It’s true!” Sho protested, laughing. “You’ve admitted it! More than once!”

“I can affirm that,” Nino spoke up. “It came up when he was drunk the last time.”

Aiba was laughing so hard he was tearing. “Oh-chan,” he gasped, “that’s like the time Kato-kun licked cream off his spoon, and you—”

Ohno pounced on Aiba to silence him, making shushing noises as he held Aiba in a headlock. “They don’t need to know, Aiba-chan. They don’t need to know.”

The evening passed thus, with the swapping of stories and raucous laughter. Nino marvelled at the way their lives had intersected, the way their timelines overlapped. There was something new to be learnt about everyone through those awful, cringe-inducing morsels of their past, though it was never anything outrageous—just good-natured fun, in the presence of trusted company.

It felt silly to be realising it so late, but it occurred to Nino then that he was damned lucky. There were friends who’d come and gone, and then there were these guys. They reached out to him, supported him, valued him and cared for him: Sho, with his ardent mothering; Ohno, always the wild card but so, so genuine; and Aiba—who, with his ingenuous charm, was worming his way into Nino’s heart. They weren’t family (so he wasn’t obliged to love them) but he’d probably die for them, if the occasion ever arose. He knew they’d do the same for him too.

And it wasn’t just them—there was Jun and Soo-jung, whose children he’d known since before they’d been born, whose home and hearts were always open to their friends; the people who’d been so unconditionally generous: Okada-senpai, who’d gotten him started as a composer for the stage, and Katsumi-san, Nintendo’s sound director and the first industry person to give Nino a chance; his juniors at the composer’s association, whom he had enough faith in to pass important jobs on to, who kept their player rankings as high as possible in _Puzzle and Dragons_ so he could use their lead monsters. More and more faces surfaced in Nino’s mind as he tried counting the people who mattered to him, but there were just too many.

When the food was exhausted and yawns could no longer be stifled, Nino and Aiba said goodbye to Sho and Ohno in time to catch one of their last trains out of the Shinagawa suburbs. It was quite a trek to Oomori Station, but Nino didn’t mind since Aiba was around to pass the time with.

As they began their walk through the quiet neighbourhood, Nino asked: “You ever wonder about the forces behind the meeting of souls?”

Aiba cast a sidelong look at Nino. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” said Nino, “it just struck me today that I have all I need because I have who I have.”

The corners of Aiba’s lips lifted. “Are you writing lyrics, Nino?”

Nino laughed, shaking his head. “I’m just happy, that’s all.”

“Happy and shy?” said Aiba, a teasing edge to his voice.

“Not shy. Not anymore.”

“So you admit it!” said Aiba, pleased. “You were shy!”

“Shut up,” said Nino, not unkindly. They came to the end of the cul de sac, and Nino took Aiba’s hand before crossing the street.

“This is the third time you’ve come and held my hand,” said Aiba, his delight obvious.

“I didn’t know you were keeping track.” During their date the previous Friday they’d held hands a bunch of times; Nino had no idea how many.

“When we were in the escape room, the one where it was pitch black? That was the first time.”

Nino looked at Aiba curiously. “I didn’t know this business of handholding meant so much to you.”

“Come on; I was really scared in there!” retorted Aiba. “And then your hand found mine in the dark, and it was like…” Aiba looked up into the moonlit sky, sighing contentedly. “It was like _magic_.”

There was a pause, then Nino exploded into a fit of laughter, punctuating the night.

“Shhh,” Aiba hastily cupped his hand over Nino’s mouth and pointed to the houses around them. “You’re too loud!”

Nino peeled Aiba’s fingers off his face and grinned at him. “‘It was like magic’? You’re so cheesy.”

“I’m not poetic like you are,” grumbled Aiba. “But you get it, right?”

Nino wagged Aiba’s hand playfully.

“I do.”

And in that moment, as the words left his lips, manifesting as sounds he could so perceive, Nino realised he _did_ know what Aiba meant, because he was feeling it too: it was a call; no, a _song_ ; a silly, magical song to celebrate Aiba’s fondness for him, and it made his heart soar.

They’d stopped on a slope, and Nino found himself holding both of Aiba's hands in his. Aiba was still looking around for irate homeowners as he muttered about how late it was, and Nino wondered why he was feeling so much for this anxious, fussy version of Aiba; but it was precisely that, wasn’t it, this whole business of accepting someone entirely, this position of privilege where one was granted permission to see all the sides of another?

Nino pulled Aiba into his arms, silencing him.

“One minute,” said Nino as he held Aiba close, “let me break the no-touching rule for just one minute.”

There was a pause, then Aiba asked: “Can I break it too?”

“Yeah,” said Nino, and Aiba gingerly pressed his hands against Nino’s back, his diffidence showing. 

Nino hid his smile—this was exactly what he liked about Aiba. He was reliably inconsistent: one moment bold enough to call their interactions ‘magic’, then being insufferably shy the next; meticulous enough to notice which hand Nino wrote with, but not sharp enough to latch onto every insinuation Nino threw his way; playing it cool as the amiable guy next door, then running up six flights of stairs to ask Nino out. They’d known each other mere weeks before, but already Nino was becoming familiar with Aiba’s quirky volatilities—predicting them, reading them, appreciating them, loving them.

“I think it’s us,” said Aiba suddenly.

Nino took a moment to connect the dots. “Are you thinking about what I said earlier?”

“The meeting of souls.” Aiba nodded. “I think that maybe it’s us. Ourselves. We’re the ones who propel fate into action. People come and go, but the ones who stay in our lives stay because we want them to.”

Nino thought about what Aiba said before, about how it wasn’t about how well someone could keep a relationship afloat, but how much they didn’t want it to sink.

“And I think everyone you meet changes you a little bit.” Aiba pulled back from the hug to look at Nino. “They can make you braver, make you stronger, make you wiser—”

“Or dumber,” teased Nino.

“I was going to say that, but you beat me to it.”

Nino could only gape at Aiba’s swift quip; he wasn’t always the most discerning, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t clever.

Aiba chuckled, sensing Nino’s surprise. “I can’t always let you abuse me, Nino. I have comebacks too.”

“I don’t _abuse_ you, idiot.”

“Calling me an idiot isn’t going to impress me.”

“I don’t have to impress you.” Nino retracted from his hug. “One minute. Done.”

Aiba didn’t let go. “I broke the rule after you did, so _my_ one minute isn’t up yet.”

“I made the rule, and it doesn’t work that way. Hug’s over, let’s go.” Nino pried Aiba’s fingers off his waist. “Come on, we don’t want to miss the train.”

Aiba reluctantly unwound his arms from around Nino, grumbling: “Why do I have this feeling that the rules keep changing?”

“Because I think they’ll be gone soon,” said Nino, returning his hand to Aiba’s as they started walking, “and I won’t get to mess around with you like that anymore. Consider it my last hurrah.”

“Are you serious?” asked Aiba, his voice pitched high. He then remembered they were supposed to be quiet, and dropped to an excited whisper. “No more rules?”

“Not at this moment, but soon.” Nino looked at Aiba. He was practically bouncing. “Don’t get too excited, Aiba-shi.”

Aiba grinned. “Right back at you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who aren't familiar with scientific pitch notation: when Nino described Aiba's laugh, he was telling Sho the note it fell on, and 'G-sharp-four' (G#4) is what the G above Middle C is, when expressed in scientific pitch notation. Similarly, B4 is the B above Middle C, which is almost a whole octave above Middle C, since the note after B4 is C5. (What's Middle C: if you look at the keys of a piano, the C-key in the middle is called Middle C, or C4 in scientific pitch notation.) Most men speak comfortably in lower pitches (the internet tells me it's 85 to 155 Hertz, which falls somewhere between E2 to D#3), and the reason why Nino considers Aiba's laugh high is because he goes over that range. For the record, I replayed several of Aiba's laughs while playing the keys to get the pitch. Try it :)
> 
> For those of you who aren't familiar with the clarinet: it's not uncommon for clarinetists to 'suck' on their mouthpieces to wet their reeds. Reeds need to be moistened before they're played, and sometimes when a clarinetist feels their instrument might squeak, they might even wet it in the middle of a performance, like Sho did. This reed moistening thing goes for other reed instruments as well, like the oboe, the bassoon, and even the saxophone, which would explain Aiba immediately understanding the hilarity of Sho's innocuous action leading to Ohno noticing him.
> 
> And yes I'm totally trying to fit Magical Song and Music in here. Hello Goodbye gets a cameo in a later chapter too! And lol snowglobe!Sho. Don't you guys just love snowglobe!Sho?


	7. Accidental Gambit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nino and Aiba hang out at Aiba's place to play a video game when Aiba's ex shows up.

Half of September was gone; Aiba and Nino had only gotten closer, thanks to Aiba’s purchase of an Xbox Gambit, which saw Nino meeting Aiba for longer hours, both online and in real life. Aiba revealed that it was Ohno who had given him the idea, when he’d joked that the way into Nino’s heart was probably through his games. Aiba decided to take him seriously and, despite not having owned a console since he was in his teens, shelled out for the latest offering from Microsoft.

Nino thought it was the best money Aiba had ever spent.

“Wait, so I should search the study before I kill the guy?” asked Aiba over the phone. They were discussing strategy for a stealth game that involved burglarising an evil crime lord’s house before assassinating him.

“Yeah, because the guy’s wife is in his room next door. You don’t want to kill her because she’s not the target, so if you comb the room first she’ll come and see what’s going on and you can chloroform her. She has a gun though, so you’ll want to sneak up.”

“Why can’t you come over and sneak up on the wife while I look for the envelope?” Aiba was sounding frustrated.

“I’ll be outside taking out the guards, remember?”

“Okay, let me give it a try—”

Aiba un-paused the game, and Nino moved his player forward.

“Oh, right—don’t forget to leave your gun in the room,” advised Nino. “You get more points for incriminating the rival gang.”

“What?” Nino’s screen froze as Aiba paused their game again. “But how am I supposed to escape without a weapon?”

“You have the wire, right?”

“Nino, I can’t fight my way downstairs with just a wire.”

“Sure you can. The guy’s son will be coming up the stairs, so you hide by the landing and strangle him when he passes, then take his weapon. Don’t kill him, though. Render him unconscious. Unnecessary murder reduces the overall score.”

“I can’t do this,” said Aiba, exasperated. “Come over.”

“Huh?”

“Come over and show me how to play. We’ll let the computer be first player like the last time.”

“You sure? It’s already ten; don’t you have to be at the office at nine tomorrow?”

“I’m the boss; I can go to work whenever I want.”

Nino laughed. “Give me twenty minutes.”

***

“This is such a morbid game,” said Aiba, as his character looped a length of wire around the neck of the crime lord’s son.

“You’re doing good,” said Nino approvingly, glancing at the bottom half of the split screen that showed Aiba’s progress. “Okay, I’m done with my part. Meet you on the edge of the estate. Remember to go through the kitchen.”

They were seated on the floor of Aiba’s living room, resting against his sofa, although Nino was more slouching than resting. Aiba was in a crunch position, his legs bent in front of him, back barely touching the sofa—Nino couldn’t imagine it being comfortable, but Aiba liked maintaining the hardness of his abs, and who was Nino to complain about that?

Aiba let out a strangled noise as his victim fell to the ground. “Kitchen, kitchen, kitchen,” he muttered.

(Aiba concentrated by vocalising his missions; Nino was more of a silent player, and once after he’d played for three days straight he’d gone for a business meeting and shocked himself with how hoarse his voice was from underuse.)

“I don’t get why you insisted on playing _Righteous_ ,” said Nino, as he watched Aiba bring Alexandros down a corridor towards the kitchen. “You normally get so tired of waiting; stealth really isn’t your genre.”

Aiba kept his eyes fixed on the screen as he opened the kitchen door as quietly as he could; it took a second before he could reply. “I knew you wanted to try the two-player mode, so.”

“I could’ve played it with Yamada or Chinen; you and I could’ve played some sports game or something.”

“Yeah, but you bought me this game.”

“With your money.” Nino grinned. He’d basically hijacked Aiba’s phone, gone on the Rakuten app, and added all the games he wanted Aiba to try to Aiba’s shopping cart. He’d then innocently asked if he could buy Aiba a game or two, and Aiba had been reading through a staff contract so he wasn’t paying attention; offhandedly, he’d said yes. Aiba had been horrified when he got 12 different games and a bill that amounted to 40000 yen.

“Doesn’t matter.” Aiba guided his character off the premises and started running towards where Nino’s character was waiting. “You picked it out.”

Nino didn’t say anything, but he was touched. Aiba had this explicit way with words, a kind of careless affection that Nino could never see himself pulling off because he’d get embarrassed halfway and try to turn it into a wisecrack.

The two players met, and the screen faded to black before cutting into a scene which showed them driving off in their getaway car. Aiba heaved a sigh of relief before taking off his glasses and falling back against the seat of his sofa, eyes shut.

Seeing how tired Aiba was, Nino paused the game; after a beat he reached for his can of beer even though he was pretty sure it was empty, trying to do something to fill up the silence.

There’d been a lot of these silences lately, ever since Nino had told Aiba he was planning to lift the rules. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable; it was mostly anticipation and shyness and, on Aiba’s part, a rather dignified suppression of his regular impatience.

The thing was, Nino didn’t know how to proceed. He didn’t know when the best time was. If he took away the rules now, then what? Were they going to have sex there and then? Nino wasn’t sure he wanted that. Aiba was the first guy he’d liked romantically and tried to get to know as a friend before they did anything intimate, and it felt weird— _wrong_ , almost—to lift the rules, then immediately sleep together. It cheapened Nino’s original intentions of wanting to do things right.

But neither did Nino want to be all cavalier about it and drop a casual ‘Hey, so let’s just do away with the rules now, yeah?’ before dropping a kiss on Aiba’s cheek (although he’d dwelled upon this idea most, given the specificity of his vision)—that seemed like he was trying too hard to keep things normal, and he didn’t want that, he didn’t want things to remain status quo. There had to be some significant change, some observance of said change, and it couldn’t be that simple. Maybe he should kiss Aiba on the lips instead.

 _But where is this going to lead?_ Nino wondered as he reasoned further. Even if their relationship became more physical, it didn’t guarantee that they would be together for the long haul.

What was the long haul anyway? Life partners? Marriage? Was Nino ready for that? Was Aiba? Aiba wanted to be more than friends, but did he want Nino as merely his boyfriend or eventual husband? What exactly was marriage _for_ , anyway? Nino was sure Aiba had known at some point, except he would never ask because Aiba falling short of being left at the altar was a topic Nino never wanted to touch on. Aiba's silence on it was enough indication that he too wanted to leave it in the past. It didn’t cast a shadow on what Nino felt for Aiba, however—Nino was sure of that, at least.

Yet, when he thought about what he felt for Aiba, Nino didn’t really have an answer. It didn’t feel like love, not when he thought about his friends and their spouses, their families. Through them he’d come to understand that love wasn’t the flutter in the pit of your stomach when you saw some very attractive forearms, even though that wasn't the full extent of what he felt for Aiba. Love seemed to border sacrifice and commitment, and Nino knew he and Aiba weren’t there yet.

But love also involved things like candour and forgiveness, both of which Aiba seemed very good at; and protection, the main tenet of Nino’s no-touching rules. So maybe they really did love each other. 

Maybe the best way to find out was to ask.

“Aiba-kun?” said Nino, his voice coming out a lot more timid than he’d intended.

Aiba cracked open his eyelids. “Hm?”

Nino was about to speak when the doorbell rang.

Aiba frowned. “It’s so late, who could it be?” He arched his back to squint at the digital door viewer on the wall, which Nino guessed was a little too small for Aiba to see clearly from that distance. Nino grabbed the glasses off the coffee table and was going to hand it to Aiba when they both heard the click of the lock, and the door opening.

Alarmed, Aiba scrambled to his feet and rounded the sofa, then skidded to a stop at the mouth of the entryway. He stood agape, eyes fixed on the door, and an unfamiliar voice reached Nino’s ears.

“Masaki.”

Nino stilled. It was a man, and by the look of panic Aiba was throwing Nino’s way, Nino had an idea of who the stranger was.

“Masaki, I’m sorry.” The man came into view, and Nino’s eyes went wide as a stunningly well-built man stepped into the living room. He had terrifyingly muscular arms and towered over Aiba; Nino felt like an ant in his presence.

“What the hell are you doing,” said Aiba in a tremulous whisper, “just coming into my house like that?”

“I didn’t - I…” The man raised his arm feebly to point to the door, his voice pained. “The combination for the lock still works.”

He had an accent; Nino took in his finely chiselled nose and sculpted cheekbones and realised he wasn’t just a particularly well-endowed Japanese man—he was actually foreign.

“Masaki, I should have contacted you. Please forgive me.” The man tried to take Aiba’s hand, but Aiba shied away.

Nino hadn’t moved from his place between the coffee table and the couch; it was probably why he remained unnoticed by the man, who went on to apologise to Aiba again. Nino felt a sick churning in his stomach; he wasn’t supposed to be witnessing all this. He wanted to leave very, very badly.

Nino grabbed his wallet and phone and stood up, startling the man.

“I should go,” said Nino, hanging his head as he made for the door.

“Nino,” called Aiba, and the desperation in his voice made Nino stop.

The ex-boyfriend was now standing between Nino and Aiba, and he stared at Nino in the most incredulous way before whirling around to demand: “Did you stop calling because of him?” 

A harshness descended upon Aiba’s features, changing his entire countenance; Nino had never imagined Aiba livid before, and it frightened him to see Aiba like this.

“Leave,” said Aiba, “before I call the police.”

“The police?” the man gasped. “What’s happened to you, Masaki?”

“What’s happened is that you came into my house without permission!” Aiba was struggling to keep his fury tamed. “You can’t just do this! You can’t just walk back into my life like this! What is wrong with you?”

“Masaki, you don’t understand. I’ve thought it through—”

“So have I, and it’s over between us. Please leave.”

The man froze. He slowly turned to look at Nino—who, for Aiba's sake, was fighting the urge to bolt—and his face hardened before he turned back to Aiba.

“Please don’t do this. I love you,” the man tried again, taking a step towards Aiba.

“I don’t,” answered Aiba smoothly, brushing past him to open the door. “Please. Go.”

“That can’t be true,” argued the man, still fixed in his spot. “We were together for _years_ , Masaki. Feelings don’t just disappear like that.”

“Maybe they don’t, but you did.” Aiba’s voice was chilling.

“I’m not going to leave this time,” the man pleaded, still fixed in his spot. “I promise.”

“Just get the fuck out of my house,” Aiba growled.

“Why are you behaving like this?” the man cried indignantly, and Nino squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see anymore of this side of Aiba.

“I think you should go,” said Nino quietly. “He’s asked you four times.”

“This is none of your business!” roared the man, and Nino calmly unlocked his phone before passing it to Aiba.

“If you need to call the police,” said Nino.

Aiba immediately started dialling, and still the man stood there, seething, not believing Aiba would actually make the call.

Aiba then put the phone to his ear, and the man threw up his hands.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

He stepped out of the apartment, and Aiba was about to shut the door when the man put up one of his burly arms to stop it from closing.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Masaki. You were never like this.”

“Neither were you,” said Aiba before he slammed the door shut. He fastened the latch, propped his head against the jamb, and gave a long sigh.

Nino stood in the hallway, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to leave Aiba just yet—he was too worried to, and besides, the ex-boyfriend was probably still outside waiting for the lift.

Aiba turned to face Nino. He took a few heavy steps towards him, holding out Nino’s phone, which Nino took wordlessly.

“I’m sorry,” said Aiba.

Nino shook his head and gave a dismissive wave, the knot in his chest too tight for him to speak.

“Just - just give me a while to quieten my thoughts, okay?” Aiba backed away, moving towards his room. “I’ll be out in two minutes.”

Nino nodded, and Aiba disappeared into his room.

***

Aiba’s two minutes had stretched into 10, and Nino wondered if he should just go home. He walked over to the door viewer and switched it on. There was nobody outside, as far as he could see.

Nino returned to his perch on the couch. He couldn’t leave yet; he was way too worried for Aiba. There’d been some very hurtful words exchanged, and Aiba wasn’t going to recover easily from this.

Nino clenched and unclenched his hands atop his knees. He wasn’t good at dealing with relationship problems, much less those that weren’t his own. It was probably why he broke things off so quickly with any guy who’d depended on him emotionally: he hadn’t been able to handle the drama.

But Aiba was different. Nino desperately wanted to comfort him, and it was a funny thing to feel because it wasn’t entirely altruistic; Nino was thinking of himself, thinking of how he could stop feeling this lousy, and the answer to that was to make Aiba feel better. It wasn’t only about Aiba; it was for Nino too.

Perhaps this was what it meant when Sho said Aiba was ‘worth it’: it meant that Aiba mattered enough for Nino to hurt when Aiba hurt. It was a partaking of Aiba’s being, his very existence. It wasn’t just an everyday romance, not anymore; it wasn’t a pursuit or a journey that would lead Nino to fall in love with Aiba—the falling in love part was simply what the process entailed. Loving someone didn’t only mean sharing their joys and sorrows—it meant granting them the power to devastate, but also trusting that they would be the one to heal, too. If Nino had learnt anything from the exchange between Aiba and his ex, it’d been that; and now Nino realised he was searching for the courage to be that person—the one Aiba could trust, the one who could promise him comfort—because he _wanted_ to, not because it was his social obligation as Aiba’s more-than-friend. It filled Nino with awe; Aiba had changed Nino in a way nobody ever had—and wasn’t changing for someone proof that you loved them?

Nino crossed the dining area and took a deep breath before knocking on Aiba’s door. It was open partway, so when Aiba didn’t answer, Nino took the liberty to poke his head into the room. 

The door was just a few feet away from the bed, where Aiba was sitting hunched over, elbows resting on his knees and fingers steepled. He looked up when Nino entered, and Nino met his eyes, not saying anything.

Nino read grief in Aiba’s face, sorely pronounced in the absence of its usual cheerfulness. He wasn’t crying, but Nino could see the way his lips pursed slightly, the subtle crease in his brow; it was obvious when Aiba was sad, and it made Nino sad too.

Nino walked up to Aiba and put his hands on his shoulders, stroking Aiba's left collarbone with his thumb.

“I almost called the police,” said Aiba finally, voice trembling. “He’s not a bad person. I know that. Why did I try to call the police?”

“You were upset. People sometimes do things they’d never do when they get upset.”

Aiba blinked a few times in succession, trying to stave off tears. “The things he said… God. I’ve never been so angry in my life.”

Nino nodded. That had been obvious.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Aiba covered Nino’s hands with his own. “I didn’t mean to involve you.”

“I just happened to be there, it couldn’t be helped.”

“That’s not true; you could have left.” Some of Aiba’s tension seemed to melt away. “But you stayed. For me.”

Nino lips quirked. “I did.”

“Thank you.” Aiba gave a small whine. “I really didn’t want to be alone with him.”

“I could tell.” Nino allowed himself a laugh. “I was so scared, though. His biceps were the size of my face.”

“He’s a personal trainer.” Aiba looked away, and Nino had an idea about how they’d met. “But he wouldn’t have hurt you. He’s not that kind of person.”

Aiba gave a frustrated sigh, and Nino gently flicked his forefinger against Aiba’s forehead.

“Hey. It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up over the police thing. You weren’t yourself tonight, but he too was out of line. He entered your home without your permission, and that's against the law. Technically, you didn’t do anything weird.”

Aiba groaned in relief and wrapped his arms around Nino’s waist, burying his face in Nino’s stomach.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” said Aiba, voice muffled. “And your belly is so gorgeously soft.”

Laughing, Nino gave Aiba’s head a comforting pat before winding an arm around his shoulders. Aiba seemed to be feeling better. Nino had contributed to that. It was a wonderful feeling.

“Nino?”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to break the rules, okay?” said Aiba, reaching out to cup the back of Nino’s neck. His lips were parted, his gaze expectant; Nino knew what he was asking, and bent down to get closer to him.

“No more rules,” whispered Nino just before their lips met.

The kiss was affection, longing, and weeks upon weeks of pent-up sexual tension—Nino heard himself making several whimpering noises as Aiba’s tongue found his, but he hardly had time to feel self-conscious because Aiba was gripping his hips and pulling; Nino took the the cue to straddle Aiba’s lap, clinging to the back of Aiba’s neck for support, his knees sinking into the bed as he kissed Aiba hard.

They didn’t need any words, which was new, since they always seemed to prefer words; tonight it was all practical, and Aiba was being very bold as he slid a hand between them and started palming the front of Nino’s pants. Nino’s jaw went slack at the contact, releasing Aiba from his kiss, but Aiba was relentless, chasing Nino’s lips until he could claim them again.

Nino then decided he couldn’t just let Aiba do all the work and proceeded to take Aiba’s shirt off, though not without some help from Aiba himself. He gave Aiba a light push to have him fall back on the bed, then closed his mouth over a nipple while his hands trailed down Aiba’s bare stomach and into his shorts. Aiba moaned as Nino grabbed his ass while switching to the other nipple; Aiba scrabbled at his waistband, trying to take his pants off to give Nino better access, but it was proving difficult with Nino on top of him; Nino was more than happy to hit pause and give him a hand before pulling his own shirt off.

Nino then braced his arms on either side of Aiba, hovering above him, drinking in every inch of his glorious nakedness. He noticed for the first time that Aiba had a birthmark, a large one that covered most of his left shoulder. Nino swallowed, unaware that he could get turned on by birthmarks. Maybe because it was Aiba’s?

Aiba reached up to touch his fingertips to Nino’s cheek, taking Nino’s attention away from his shoulder.

“Are you okay with this?” asked Aiba, sobering them. “Are we moving too fast?”

Nino shook his head and brushed Aiba’s fringe out of his eyes, lips curving into a smile. Aiba was terribly self-aware, and he was afraid he was rushing Nino into something Nino did not want. Nino appreciated the sentiment, but he felt ready.

“How far do you want to go tonight?” asked Nino, enjoying the way Aiba pinked at the question.

“I have all the equipment, so it’s up to you,” said Aiba, suddenly interested in the ceiling.

Nino hid his face in the crook of Aiba’s neck and laughed. “‘Equipment’, that’s lovely.”

Their tempo slowed considerably after that, allowing them to explore every groove and indulge in every sound that escaped their lips. Eventually Aiba panted a request and Nino complied, splaying a hand against Aiba’s chest to help him balance as he eased down onto Nino, both of them fighting laughs as they heard the squelching of the lube; minutes later Aiba wasn’t that gentle anymore, his fingers digging into Nino’s shoulders as he rode with Nino’s thrusts, gasping and grunting and giggling as Nino showed off some very skilled multitasking by pumping Aiba with his hand while telling a joke about professional musicians and their excellent sense of rhythm.

They took a bath together after, Aiba’s long limbs cocooning Nino from behind as they soaked in the water, Nino helping to massage Aiba’s sore thigh muscles and occasionally tipping his head back so their mouths could meet. It was already past one in the morning—they still hadn’t had enough of each other.

“Stay over,” said Aiba, nosing against Nino’s wet hair. “Let me wake up to you.”

Nino groaned. “You can’t say things like that. You’ll make me want to stay.”

“That’s the point.”

Nino slid his hands up and down Aiba’s forearms, considering. “I have a four-week accompanist gig starting tomorrow, and seeing that the producers actually gave me the score beforehand this time, I’d like to play it through before the rehearsal.”

At this, Aiba wrapped his arms tightly around Nino, splashing water out of the tub. “Wrong answer!”

Nino laughed as Aiba’s stubble tickled him under his ear. “Fine; I can stay, but I have to leave by six.”

“Deal.”

“This means no more sex tonight; you know that, right?”

“Nino, I’m thirty-eight years old with a history of pneumothorax. You don’t have to worry; I’m all maxed out.”

Nino smirked. “Says the guy who’s literally stabbing me in the back.”

Aiba gasped dramatically and looked down between his legs. “Why, good morning, you!”

Nino cracked up so hard he had a coughing fit right there in the bath. He’d once thought Aiba wasn’t particularly funny, but not anymore.

“Aiba-kun.” Nino nudged Aiba’s knee once he caught his breath. “Six-thirty.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll stay until six-thirty.”

Aiba cheered and gave Nino another hug that squeezed all the air out of his lungs, but there was no way Nino could mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple years ago Nino went to Aiba's home in the middle of the night because he was trying to tell Aiba how to play a game and Aiba went: "Come over and show me!" and Nino did. This was based on that episode. Also, the game mentioned in the beginning is based on the computer game _Hitman_.


	8. The other Bolero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night after they sleep together Nino and Aiba realise something is off, and they hold an honest conversation. Sho and Ohno have a housewarming party. Ohno scores brownie points with Nino. Aiba reveals to Nino why he made the first move.

Doubt is a frightening thing to have, and it was eroding Nino’s sanity as he kept thinking about whether it’d been wise to have initiated sex with Aiba. Nino had thought it right at the time; but now that he was looking back on the previous night, it was very likely that the excitement of the rules being lifted, accompanied by the intoxicating lust they’d very responsibly suppressed for six whole weeks, had clouded both their sensibilities and tricked them into thinking it was okay.

Because how could it have been okay? Nino hadn’t planned on having sex the moment the rules were lifted. He’d wanted to wait. He’d wanted to be sure—of what, he wasn’t exactly clear, but it went along the lines of being the adult he felt he’d transformed into ever since he saw Sho and Ohno standing at that altar, wishing for what they had. He was supposed to see a marked change in himself, and though he knew his friends would give him a pat on the back for even waiting six weeks to have sex with a guy he genuinely liked, it didn’t seem good enough. Nino could’ve done better, could’ve waited longer.

But that wasn’t Nino’s only misgiving; there was something larger, something that disturbed him so much that he didn’t have the mood for lunch because he felt like throwing up: he’d gone and had sex with Aiba right after Aiba broke up with his ex _in front of him_. It made Nino feel crass, like he’d gone in for the kill when Aiba had been at his weakest. Sure, Aiba had been very clear with his ex about how everything was over, period, but it didn’t mean Nino could just march into his room and offer up a fuck as a new beginning or therapy or whatever. Even if Nino’s intentions hadn’t been those, even if Aiba hadn’t considered them so, it still didn’t change the fact that Nino had slept with Aiba immediately after an emotionally charged verbal exchange that could have compromised his powers of reason.

Furthermore, it wasn’t only Aiba who’d been affected by the ex’s appearance—Nino had been just as impulsive with his need to comfort. If he hadn’t felt that, he wouldn’t have gone into Aiba’s room. If he hadn’t gone into Aiba’s room, they would still have had the rules. If they’d had the rules, they wouldn’t have been so rash.

Nino should’ve known better.

“Ninomiya-sensei?” One of the actors waved a hand in front of Nino’s face, concerned. “You there?”

“Ah, sorry.” Everyone in the room was looking at him; they’d probably been calling him for a while now. Nino set his fingers on the piano, feeling his neck flush hot. He rarely let himself get lost in his thoughts like this.

“Could you give us a four-octave A, please?”

Nino played the four As, and the main actor counted off before starting the number a cappella. Nino kept his eyes on the music this time—he had to come in at Measure 13—and hoped his mind wouldn’t wander to Aiba for the rest of rehearsal.

***

At nine in the evening Nino came out of the studio to two missed calls from Aiba. There were no texts. He was wondering if it was a butt-dial when an incoming call from Aiba arrived.

“Hello.” Nino answered the call, suddenly nervous. “You called?”

“Hey, yeah, sorry about that—I forgot rehearsals meant you’re always at the piano.”

There was silence; it was unmistakably awkward.

“Um, where are you?” asked Aiba.

“Kamata,” answered Nino. “I’m leaving now.”

“Okay.” Aiba paused. “Could we meet? I want to talk to you about this morning.”

“This morning?” Nino was baffled. That morning had consisted of a quick kiss to Aiba’s forehead and a sleepy goodbye from Aiba before Nino let himself out of the apartment. There was hardly anything to talk about.

“Yeah. Listen, I don’t want to do this over the phone, so if you’re free anytime tonight…”

“I’m not exactly free, but I’m heading to your building for the album recording thing. You still at the office?”

“Yup. What time will you get here?”

Nino checked his phone screen for the time. “In half an hour, but the singers are going to rush down right after their evening show and start recording at ten, so I can’t meet you before. I’ll have to be there until it ends, and we’re doing three tracks tonight.”

“It’s okay, I’ll wait.”

“Are you sure? We’re talking way past midnight, and that’s if everyone has really good takes.”

“I’ll wait.” Aiba sounded determined.

“It has to be tonight?”

“It has to be tonight.”

Nino decided to leave his questions for later. “Alternatively, since we live pretty close you could just go home and wait; I’ll head over when the recording’s done.”

“No, the office is fine,” said Aiba. “Better, even.”

“I don’t know what that means, but okay.”

Throughout his journey to Toranomon, Nino replayed the morning again and again in his head. What had transpired then that he wasn’t aware of? Had he unwittingly done something wrong? Aiba was a lot more sensitive than he was; maybe he’d missed something.

The recording session started on time, giving Nino some respite from his harried assumptions, and he was so bent on not thinking about Aiba that he forgot Aiba was waiting downstairs, and tried to perfect everyone’s takes. The recording thus dragged on into the night, and by the time the last note was sung it was already two in the morning.

The singers were in high spirits and suggested getting a drink with everybody, since this was the last recording session for the album and they had the following day off. The staff all agreed, and when Maruyama beamed at Nino and asked if he was coming, the phone call from earlier surfaced in Nino’s mind.

“Sorry, I’ll pass,” said Nino, and he experienced a sudden urge to rush out the door and run down six flights of stairs and find Aiba and just _be_.

Maruyama’s smile wilted. “But you’re the producer!”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry. I’ve got some personal matters to see to.” Nino grabbed his bag and patted Maruyama’s sleeve. “See you around.”

And with that, Nino left the studio, grinning stupidly to himself as he raced down the steps towards the fifth floor, wondering if this was how Aiba felt when he’d ran up the stairs to catch Nino before he'd entered the recording studio, just so he could ask Nino out.

Aiba had left a text message saying he kept some lights on and Nino should just come in whenever he was done, so Nino swung open the door of the main office and headed straight for Aiba’s room at the back. He knocked, and there was the sound of springs squeaking, followed by approaching footsteps.

“I’m hungry,” said Nino, raising his voice a little, and just before the door slid open Nino heard Aiba’s signature G-sharp-four laugh.

“I have food.” Aiba stepped aside so Nino could enter, and Nino saw that Aiba had readied milk buns and canned coffee on his desk.

“How did you know I liked these?” asked Nino, picking up the bag of rolls.

“We talked a lot about food the first time you came to my place. I remembered.” Aiba smiled.

Nino stared at Aiba, feeling too much at once. Then a horrible thought struck him.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Aiba’s mouth hung open. “ _No._ Oh, God, no.”

“Okay,” Nino took a deep breath, “so what is it that you _had_ to tell me tonight?

Aiba came to stand in front of Nino, leaning sideways against his desk. He sighed, looking down at his clasped hands, twiddling his thumbs.

“This morning… You know how after you do something, or you don’t do something, and then you have some time to think and you realise: ‘Shit, that might not have been the best idea’?” Aiba winced at Nino’s shocked expression. “Sorry, bad opening line. I’m not talking about the sex.”

“It doesn’t make me feel better, but go on,” said Nino.

Aiba held Nino’s gaze, then took a step closer to lock their fingers together. “When I woke up this morning, I told myself I had to tell you I love you.”

Nino’s breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t expecting to hear this.

Aiba went on: “But I didn’t, because I didn’t want it to sound like it was something I only said after sex, except it _is_ something you say after sex, or most of the time during, I don’t know, I haven’t had a lot of sex lately and I’ve really only slept with four people, so what do I know, right?”

Nino folded his lips in between his teeth, pinching down on a laugh. Aiba was losing control.

“The thing is—I didn’t think we were going to have sex so soon. I thought I’d get the chance to tell you how I felt first. I kind of had it all planned, but things just happened, and this morning I wasn’t drunk on happiness anymore and I was just lying there looking at you sleeping and all I could think of was ‘oh crap I haven’t told Nino I love him but I’ve gone ahead and fucked him, what should I do’, and then you woke up and I pretended to sleep because I just couldn’t deal. I was too scared.”

Nino laughed this time; Aiba’s honest babbling was too adorable.

“I get it, Aiba-kun. I don’t need it to be put into words.”

“No, it’s not just that,” said Aiba desperately, gripping Nino’s hands and shaking them like a pair of maracas as he thought of what to say, making Nino stare at them in amusement. “It’s like - it’s like I know you think you know, but I want to make sure that what you think you know and what I really feel, are the same. You’re not easy to read, Nino. I’m getting there, but you’re still very mysterious to me.”

Nino understood; what Aiba wanted from him was honesty. It wasn’t too much to ask, not if it was coming from Aiba, and Nino felt it was time he gave it.

“What do you want from this, Aiba-kun?” Nino looked into Aiba’s eyes searchingly. “I totally love you back, but where do we go from here?”

“We continue this,” said Aiba, voice full of conviction. “I don’t know where we’ll end up, but I just want to be with you. That’s all.”

“Well, okay, but I think I want to get married,” said Nino, finally saying it out loud. “Not right now, but sometime soon, preferably.”

“Oh,” was all Aiba said, and Nino could tell he was surprised.

“When I saw Sho-chan get married… I don’t know, it struck me that I was completely alone. Prior to that I didn’t care I was alone because being alone was _fun_ , but when I looked around and realised I was the only one who didn’t have somebody, I felt like I had to do something about it.”

Aiba was giving Nino his full attention, keeping prudently silent.

“I was afraid of marriage for a long time. It meant walking willingly into an agreement to be controlled by its conventions, to be at the mercy of another person’s schedule, to lose all my single-person privileges. But now I see the other side of it: it’s having someone to go home to, every single day, for the rest of my life. That someone sticks around for all my failures and successes, gets disgusted with me but still sees something to love, and someday, ideally before the onset of osteoporosis, has children with me. I know I don’t necessarily have to get married to enjoy all that, but when I think about how I used to view marriage, like it was the final nail in the coffin, I actually get the point of it. It’s not a game over, because it’s about having enough guts to promise a forever to that someone. It’s a level-up.”

The gravity of the words was making Nino shake, and he clung onto Aiba’s hands for courage as he said:

“Meeting you has made me want that level-up really, really bad.”

Aiba only looked at him wistfully.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to scare you off,” Nino went on, “and after you told me about what happened to your wedding I didn’t know if it was something I could bring up, since I wasn’t sure how you felt about the whole marriage thing anymore. But the more we got to know each other the more you made me feel like I could have all those things, and now I don’t know if I can bear you not giving them to me.”

Aiba seemed taken aback at Nino’s claim.

“Nino, it’s not…” Aiba lost the rest of his sentence in a sigh. Nino felt a stab of panic as Aiba’s grip on his hands loosened, but Aiba was just walking over to his computer. He waited as Aiba clicked through several folders.

“I get it now… Should’ve known… Stupid for missing it…” muttered Aiba as he navigated to what he was looking for. “Here,” Aiba turned the screen so it faced Nino, “I took this, back when I didn’t even know your name.”

It was a picture of Nino at Sho and Ohno’s wedding. He'd been clapping hard, a muted smile on his face, and the rims of his eyes had been red. Nino didn’t remember tearing up, but photos don’t lie.

“You stalker,” Nino murmured. “This is my best angle.”

“Yeah, I noticed you the minute you walked into the room.”

“Really?”

“No.” Aiba grinned, earning himself a punch on the arm. “Okay, fine, I did notice you, but it took a while. Hot guy, no date? Hard to miss with the viewfinder.”

“I didn’t see this when you showed me the wedding photos.”

“I didn’t put it in.” Aiba rounded the desk to stand by Nino again. “I don’t know—it seemed like I’d intruded on a private moment, and I wasn’t sure if I should let anyone else see it. I thought I’d help you keep it a secret.”

“Wait, what did you think it was?”

“That you were in love with one of the grooms and jealous of the other one.”

“Wrong. You know I love them both.”

Aiba laughed and circled an arm around Nino’s waist before tapping the screen. “But this was envy, wasn’t it? Wanting what they had?”

Nino nodded. “Very much.”

Aiba sighed and pressed his lips against Nino’s temple, taking a moment to word his reply. There was no doubt in Nino’s mind that Aiba loved him enough to _want_ to marry him, but that was different from actually marrying him. Nino understood; marriage required you to be selfless, to be strong, to bear another person’s hardships like they were your own—right now, Aiba wasn’t in that place. Aiba had been wounded, and while Nino was sure he had a part to play in his recovery, he also knew Aiba wasn’t fully mended yet.

Aiba took Nino by the shoulders, his mouth set in a resolute line.

“All those things you want—I think can give them to you. But not now. I’m not saying I won’t. I’m just saying I don’t know when. Okay?”

“Okay,” whispered Nino, and he stepped closer to Aiba to take the hug he was offering.

“…I’m sorry, Nino.”

“Don’t say that. Seriously. Remember—I’m not ready for marriage either. I’m just telling you I get the point of it now.”

Aiba nodded. “Could I just say sorry for one more thing?”

“No, you may not.”

Aiba rolled his eyes at Nino, ignoring his objection. “Sorry about last night. I made a move on you right after Emil walked out. That was weird, and I still had the nerve to complain about us having sex too soon.”

“God, no. I was the one who lifted the rules. It was a dick move. You were fragile, and I went into your room and started touching you. The rules hadn’t been lifted then, don’t forget.”

“Come on, Nino. I wasn’t _fragile_. I’d have slept with you whether or not the rules were still there.”

“You’d just ended things with your ex, and half an hour later I was undressing you on your bed! You can’t blame me for feeling bad about it, not after how I’d convinced myself not sleeping with you meant not hurting you.”

“Nino, listen." Aiba's voice was firm, but he wasn't cross. "I reacted badly when Emil showed up, yes, but my feelings about him were already sorted. I really meant it when I told him I don’t love him anymore. I stopped loving him even before I met you; you just helped me be sure of it. I didn’t have sex with you because he hurt me and I was feeling needy and you happened to be there. I had sex with you because I love you and I wanted you to know. It’s as simple as that.”

Nino fought all his surging feelings. He didn’t want to cry in front of Aiba, not like that. But God—Aiba loved him. And he could say it with such ease. Nino wanted to leap up and dance his Spanish bolero, but he’d vowed to do that only in private.

Nino cleared his throat. “So, this _Mi_ \- what’s his name?”

Aiba quirked a smile at the sudden change in topic. “E-mi-l,” he said, sounding out the syllables.

“Where’s he from?”

“Originally Macedonia, but he’s Japanese now.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. We met at the gym, though you’ve probably figured that out.”

“And you’ve only slept with him and three other guys? Oh wait, I’m in there too, so—two other guys?”

“ _Nino_.”

“Sorry, was that inappropriate?”

“…I don’t know what to do with you sometimes.”

Nino laughed, and Aiba pressed him close to his chest, sighing into his hair. “I like this, Nino.”

“What, my glibness?”

“Not that. Us talking. Baring our hearts. Resolving stuff without shouting or tears. Not everyone gets to have this. I feel like I can tell you anything.”

“Same.” Nino looked up at Aiba. “So were any of your other two sexual partners close encounters of the kinky kind?” 

Aiba pushed Nino away, groaning. Nino cackled; Aiba was too easy to wind up.

“Here.” Nino opened the bag of milk buns and held one out. “My peace offering.”

Aiba huffed, snatching the milk bun out of Nino’s hand and biting a chunk off ferociously. He gave Nino a wild-eyed glare as he chewed, stifling a grin the whole time. Nino howled in laughter at the comicality of it all.

Even if marriage was off the cards, if this was how the rest of his life was going to look like—Nino didn’t mind not asking for more.

***

They snuck away from the living area, Aiba in the lead, escaping to the second floor and stopping outside the tatami room that opened up to a tiny Japanese garden. Aiba checked to see if anyone was looking before pushing Nino in. Nino clapped his hand over his mouth to stop himself from giggling as he padded over the tatami and unlocked the gliding patio door; it was ridiculous, they were too old for this, Aiba shouldn’t have agreed.

They stepped out into the cool October air, looking around for a suitable spot and choosing the corner where the deck met the wall; Nino pressed himself flush against Aiba to back him in, but Aiba, in a stroke of deviousness (and being far more athletic), flipped their positions so Nino was nestled in the corner instead.

“This is wrong,” said Nino breathlessly. “This is our friends’ housewarming party. There are kids here.”

“Yes, but whose idea was this?” asked Aiba, his voice low and purring as he grabbed Nino’s ass and squeezed.

Nino didn’t answer; he yanked on the front of Aiba’s sweater and brought their mouths together.

God, he missed Aiba. They hadn’t been seeing much of each other because of Nino’s month-long rehearsal gig and Aiba travelling around the country for a huge assignment commissioned by Japan Airlines, but now they were finally back in the same space, and they were hungry.

Nino bit down on a moan as Aiba caught his hand and put it over his crotch, letting Nino feel the bulge that was just starting to strain against the soft cotton of Aiba’s track pants. Nino was already hard, and he wondered if the room had any lubricant they could borrow, then laughed out loud at how ludicrous the idea was—they weren’t going to go all the way on Sho and Ohno’s balcony, much less cop lube from them. First of all, the hardwood decking could kill Nino’s back. Second of all, Sho would kill him for desecrating his house.

Okay, maybe not Sho. Sho was the more lenient one. Jun, though—Jun would definitely kill him, despite it not being his house. At least Ohno could be counted on to laugh and say they were welcome to fuck in his house anytime. Not that he would actually say that, but it was highly likely.

“If we come on anything,” said Nino, panting as he bucked his hips against Aiba’s other hand which was currently in his pants, “I’m gonna tell them it’s your fault.”

Aiba immediately released his hold on Nino, making him hiss.

“Sorry,” Aiba grinned, “can’t be held responsible for that. There are bonsai around here, and Matsumoto-kun’s gifts are not to be messed with.”

“Oh, screw him,” said Nino, pushing his pants down to his thighs and returning Aiba’s hand to where it belonged. Aiba laughed as he met Nino’s lips with his, humming appreciatively as Nino slid a hand under his shirt to play a scale on his skin, fingers dancing on his stomach before moving higher to flit across his collarbone.

Seconds later Aiba broke away from the kiss, and there was a look in his eyes, saturated with want, stealing Nino’s breath away; Aiba’s world contained him, and him only. It was enough to make Nino’s knees quake.

“Come for me?” asked Aiba quietly, his strokes urgent; Nino let out a soft cry and dug his fingers into the walls behind him as he watched Aiba go down on both knees before flicking his tongue across the head of Nino’s cock.

Then the lights in the tatami room came on and Ohno’s voice rang out:

“Aiba-chan? Got your pants on?”

Aiba shot to his feet, and the guilty pair exchanged a frantic glance before trying to right the disarray, whispering curses as Aiba dragged his palm across the leg of Nino’s chinos (“This is for you.” “What the - did you just wipe pre-cum on me?!”) and Nino hurriedly put his briefs back on.

“My God, Satoshi, I told you to stop saying that!” Sho was there too. “Everyone can hear you!”

“They won’t get it. Come on, Sho. Try it. ‘Nino, got your pants on?’ Like that.”

“I’m not even looking for them, I’m only up here to get the aroma candles. And give them a break, will you? They haven’t seen each other for a while. Go downstairs, mind your business, and be a good host.”

Sho was such a decent friend.

“This is more fun. Tell you what, I’ll head back down after checking the balcony garden—need to make sure those kids aren’t spunking on the bonsai.”

“…Oh God. Why did I even picture - never mind.”

They heard Sho shuffling away, and Nino had just fastened the button on his pants when the glass door slid open and Ohno’s head popped out.

“Hi, Oh-chan!” Aiba greeted, a notch too brightly. “Fancy seeing you here!”

Ohno gave them a sly look. “Well, it _is_ my house.” He sounded absolutely triumphant. “Was I interrupting?”

“What do you think?” asked Nino coolly, though in fact he was experiencing the urge to wring Ohno’s neck. Ohno only laughed.

“I just wanted to tell you guys the guest room is available and you don’t need to make out in secret; unless, of course, this is how you guys roll, then I won’t disturb you.” A pause. “D’you guys need condoms?”

“No need,” answered Nino, “you pretty much killed the mood.”

“Ah, but not your boner, though,” Ohno pointed to Nino first, then Aiba, “nor yours.”

It suddenly occurred to Nino, by the way his speech was slurring and his well-meaning bluntness, that Ohno was quite drunk. Also, he was obviously running away from the party. Nino sighed. It was hard to hold things against Ohno when he was like this.

“How many drinks have you had, Oh-chan?” asked Aiba, his voice mild.

“I dunno.” Ohno grinned, then went to sit down on the edge of the deck, propping himself up with his arms behind him, raising his eyes to the night sky.

“Stay here with him,” said Aiba to Nino, “I’m gonna find something non-alcoholic for him to drink.” He looked down at his hand. “And maybe wash my hands while I’m at it.”

Aiba left, prompting Nino to join Ohno on the deck.

“Parties are more of Sho’s thing,” said Ohno. “I don’t mind them, but I get tired of them really fast.”

“You and me both.”

Ohno met Nino’s gaze with a pout, blinking extremely slowly. “Sorry for the cock block.”

Nino laughed, shaking his head. “We were behaving highly inappropriately in your home. I don’t think you should be the one apologising.”

“Ah.” Ohno brought his legs up, crossing them. He hunched and dropped his hands into his lap before turning to Nino.

“You know something?”

“Yeah?”

“When I heard Aiba-chan purposely looked you up to give you his card, I was really happy.” Ohno’s face gave way to a goofy smile. “He’d been through a rough patch, and I was wondering if meeting someone new would help. I just never expected that someone to be you.”

“Are you saying that in a good way or a bad way?” asked Nino.

“Good way.” Ohno huffed out a laugh. “It surprised me, because you’re so close to Sho—you’re like a relative, it’s weird to think about my best friend dating someone who’s family—but I think that helped me trust you more.”

Nino realised he understood what Ohno was saying: Ohno knew how Emil had hurt Aiba with his departure and subsequent radio silence. It was betrayal, and Ohno didn’t want to see Aiba go through anything like it again.

Ohno gave a torpid flap of his hand, his body swaying dangerously as he shifted his weight onto his other arm so he could face Nino. “Aiba-chan isn’t the kind to make the first move, though I think you know that already. He finds an opening and sort of just shoves himself into it; then he stays there, makes himself comfortable, works his way into your heart. And that opening is key, Nino. If the opening is shit, he wouldn’t even go near it with a ten-foot pole. But you must have given him one hell of an opening, because he actually got out of his funk to speak to you.” Ohno’s voice cracked. “God, you have no idea how relieved I was.”

“You really care for him.”

“No homo,” said Ohno with a straight face, making Nino laugh. Then Ohno crouched, putting their faces close enough for Nino to smell his beer-breath.

“You do know he was engaged, right?”

Nino nodded. “He told me about it.”

Ohno’s eyes drifted as he tried to remember. “I came back three weeks in advance. Surprised Aiba-chan and all; I'd lied that I wasn’t able to make it. He was super happy, kept me updated on how busy he was preparing and all that, said I could watch and learn so I didn’t swamp Sho with the wedding planning and actually help out.

“Then a week later he called and told me the wedding was off and he wanted to die.” Ohno’s voice fell flat, and he turned sullen at the memory. “His mum called me and we went over and he was just lying on the floor crying and making phone calls to the guy, I thought he was going to get cancer with the way he kept at it, all that radiation to the side of his head… I’ll never be able to forget how depressed he was. Apparently the guy had called off the wedding the night before and Aiba-chan was hoping to talk some sense into him in the morning, but he left when Aiba-chan was still sleeping, didn’t even pack his stuff, and he’d gone so far as to quit his job, it was nuts.

“His boss was the last one to talk to him, said he’d mentioned going home—oh yeah, he’s a foreigner, I forgot to mention that—so we figured he’d gone to his parents’ in Europe and called them, but they couldn’t understand English, or maybe they pretended not to, I don’t know. Aiba-chan’s mum and I spent the rest of the day calling everyone on the guest list to tell them the wedding was cancelled.” Ohno sighed. “Crap. I shouldn’t be spilling this like it’s my story. Fucking alcohol’s like truth serum.”

It was heartbreaking to find out the details, but Nino appreciated Ohno telling him. It spoke a lot about Ohno and his friendship with Aiba, and Nino was touched by how much it consoled him that Aiba was now with Nino. He didn’t find it important to tell Ohno he knew about (and even met) Emil; instead, he patted Ohno’s arm and said:

“It doesn’t matter. Knowing doesn’t change how I feel about Aiba-kun.”

Ohno gave Nino a smile. “Sho did describe you as 'fucking loyal'.”

Nino blinked, not understanding the English that had suddenly appeared in Ohno’s speech. However, he did hear a word he recognised.

“Did you just curse?” he asked Ohno.

“What, ‘fucking’?”

“Yeah, and then I couldn’t catch the rest.”

“Oh, it just means ‘very’. Basically Sho said you’re a very loyal friend.” 

“I had a very different impression of ‘fuck’ before this.” Nino raised his eyebrows. “Isn't it a really vulgar term? Does Sho-chan actually say it?”

“He does. With me. In various contexts.” Ohno put on a stupid grin. “It’s usually directive.”

Nino knew what _that_ version of ‘fuck’ meant. “Well, I’m sorry I asked.”

They cracked up, lolling against each other, still laughing when Aiba returned with a tall glass of warm water for Ohno.

“What’s going on?” asked Aiba amusedly as he saw Nino and Ohno tumbling about on the deck.

“Oh-chan’s teaching me English,” said Nino.

“He only knows the bad words, don’t listen to him,” said Aiba, setting Ohno off again.

“I was there for fifteen years!” protested Ohno through his laughter. “I know stuff.”

“Yeah, you know fifteen years' worth of bad words,” said Aiba simply, holding the glass of water out to Ohno. He got up to take it, finishing it in one swig.

“I should go downstairs. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Matsujun you guys jizzed on his bonsai.”

“We didn’t!” exclaimed Aiba. “He’s looking for us, by the way. We should all go. His younger daughter was going ‘where’s Nino, where’s Nino’ and it was super cute.”

“We’ll be down in a moment,” Nino promised Ohno, reaching for Aiba’s hand and giving it a gentle tug to sit him down. Ohno slid the door open and gave them a wave without so much as a backward glance, and left.

Aiba sat down beside Nino, eyebrows arched. “What’s up?”

Nino took his eyes off Aiba to look at his bare feet, which he’d dangled off the edge of the deck.

“Is this a good time to ask why you asked me out?" Nino kept his gaze on his toes. "Or, if we really wanted to trace it back to where it began, why you came to the recording studio to personally hand me your card?” He finally managed to look at Aiba, now that the words were all out.

Aiba surveyed Nino for a second. “Oh-chan wasn’t teaching you English, was he?”

“He didn’t say anything inappropriate. Don’t be upset with him.”

“Okay.” Aiba let out a long breath. “You really want to know?"

"I think so, yeah."

Aiba wrapped his arms around his knees, speaking in a low voice. “By the time I’d met you, I’d been trying to get unstuck for months. I’d done these - these _things_ to dramatically alter my life—renovated my office, changed my haircut, hit up a different gym, deleted all the photos and even burnt a few things. I felt that all that was left was a rebound, so I’d been toying with the idea of a fling, but I didn’t really have the guts to do it until I met you in the lift. You were friendly enough to call out to me, and I remembered noticing you during the ceremony—you know, because I took your picture—plus I met you again when I found Kento. So I thought why not; we seemed to keep running into each other anyway.”

“So you befriended me because you wanted to sleep with me?”

“Initially yes, but right after I got your card Oh-chan started sending me these weird messages, like ‘hey go hang out with our friend Nino from the lift, he’s kinda lonely because I stole his last single bro from him hahaha’, and he never bothers to send mails like that so I guessed you were interested and he somehow got wind of it. That gave me a bit more confidence, so I sent you the message about the wedding photos.”

Nino laughed. “Damn. ‘Nino from the lift’. I’ve really got to give it to Ohno-kun.”

“Yeah. I thought since we had mutual friends it’d be less intimidating. The chances of you being a psychopath were much lower.”

Nino had to laugh at this, but Aiba wasn’t joking.

“And then as we talked I just kept liking you more and more, so I asked if you wanted to come over to have Chinese food, since the worst that could happen was you hating my cooking. I honestly thought it’d be one of those hello-goodbye kind of things, you know? Because I wasn’t sure if I was really over Emil yet.” Aiba gave a dry laugh. “But you read my moves and basically asked me straight up if I was trying to befriend you or date you, and I had to tell you the truth.”

“You wanted both.” Nino remembered.

“Yup. Then you decided we should just be friends, and implemented the rules.” Aiba gave Nino a wry smile.

Nino sucked air through his teeth. “That must’ve dealt a blow, sorry.”

“It did at first, but without the intimacy I realised what I really enjoyed was companionship. So because you came in with your rules—telling me you liked me, but you didn’t want to sleep with me; telling me you liked me, but there was no pressure to like you back; telling me you liked me, and all you wanted was to get to know me—I saw that what I needed wasn’t a rebound, or sex, or romance. I needed to be accepted, not just loved.” Aiba shrugged. “I don’t think anyone else has tried so hard to see me for who I really am, and that’s why I’ve kept on liking you. I don’t think I could stop even if I tried.”

Nino spent a moment to take all this in, awash with gratitude and wonder as the magnitude of Aiba’s words struck him; he’d done something in a past life to deserve this, he was sure of it, because if the last 38 years were anything to go by, Nino had led a meagre and unremarkable existence until Aiba walked in to make a magnum opus of his heart.

“Now you know. Come on, time to go.” Aiba got to his feet. “Hirari misses her Uncle Nino.”

“Wait,” Nino curled his fingers in the sleeve of Aiba’s sweater to bring their faces closer, “one for the road.”

The kiss wasn't showy, nor did it linger; it was almost dry, over in an instant, one of those casual kisses that Nino never paid any attention to when he’d shared it with other people, but this one somehow meant something to him, like they were kissing like this because they could afford it; because there’d be so many more to come.

Nino was looking forward to every single one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if it's necessary to mention this, but when I write dialogue I'm thinking of the lines in Japanese as well, so when Nino and Aiba say things like 'I love you' it's slightly less heavy than what can come across in English (not saying that English can't convey 'suki da' as 'I love you' accurately, because context).


	9. VS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys hang out at Sho and Ohno's. Aiba attempts a proposal but it doesn't quite work out as planned.

“Question Two: What is Sho-chan’s favourite—”

“SHELLFISH!” shouted Nino and Ohno together.

“Wrong!” Aiba yelled back. “Let me finish the question!”

“Contestants, please use your buzzers,” said Jun in a flat tone. “I didn’t get them from the Donki for nothing.”

Sho slumped over the table, gasping for air as he laughed. “I’m dying, I’m dying—”

“What,” Aiba straightened, sounding important, “is Sho-chan’s favourite fingering system?”

Ohno immediately smacked his buzzer, and Sho, realisation hitting him a second too late, frantically made a motion for him to stop, but Ohno was already blurting:

“Mine!”

“Er,” Aiba checked his card, “wrong.”

Nino and Jun clung to each other and almost wept in laughter as they saw Sho slowly sinking into his seat and sliding under the dining table, completely mortified.

“Aiba-kun,” Nino gasped, wiping tears from his eyes, “did you miss out a word?”

Aiba looked down at the question again. “Oh! ‘Favourite _clarinet_ fingering system’, I apologise.”

Ohno didn’t seem to be bothered at all. “Please, he’s my husband. It’d be weird if he doesn’t like my fingering.”

“Satoshi! Shut up!”

Jun laughed so hard he fell off his chair.

Ohno turned to Aiba, who was impressively professional as game-host. “I’d like to challenge the question. Music-related stuff is skewed in their favour.”

Aiba waved at Sho through the dining table glass. “Help?”

Sho peered out at them from under the table. “I wouldn’t say so, Nino isn’t familiar with actually playing the clarinet.”

“Appeal denied!” Aiba announced, much to Ohno’s chagrin.

“I actually know this one,” said Jun, grinning at Ohno. “I’m available for a lifeline!”

“It’s only the second question, I’m saving lifelines for later,” said Ohno, looking very serious, fingers crawling towards the buzzer. “I’m pretty sure he told me, hang on…”

Nino copied Ohno, placing his hand on the buzzer. He tried to recall the names of the clarinet fingering systems—there were two or three, if he wasn’t mistaken, the most popular one being Boehm, but it seemed like a trick question; musicians normally didn’t switch between fingering systems. Had Sho ever told him which one he used?

Nino pressed the buzzer. “Oe - Oehler?”

Aiba looked down at the card in his hand. “Wrong!”

Ohno slapped his hand down on his buzzer. “Barm!”

Aiba winced, cocking his head as he looked at the answer. He exchanged glances with Sho, who was back in his chair, wrinkling his nose, wondering if they should give the point to Ohno. Nino saw his chance and hit his buzzer.

“Boehm!” yelled Nino at the top of his voice.

Aiba flung his arm out at him. “That’s right!”

“How could you!” moaned Ohno, pointing at Nino.

Nino gave Ohno a cocky grin and slid the buzzer over to Jun. It was Jun's turn to play on the ‘Best Friends’ side.

It was the night before Sho and Ohno’s first wedding anniversary, and they’d invited their closest friends over for dinner and a trivia game that had originated in Jun’s wedding afterparty called ‘Quiz Matsumoto Jun’, where Soo-jung had been pitted against Nino and Sho to answer questions about Jun that Jun himself had come up with. This time it was ‘Quiz Sakurai Sho’—shortened to 'The Quiz Sho' by Aiba—and the rules were exactly the same, but Sho’s questions were unnecessarily difficult, and right now the game was tied.

Sho took out his phone to film the next round (“Name three of Sho-chan’s least favourite activities!”) so he could send the clip to Soo-jung, who was with the kids in Korea visiting family over the summer. Jun was only heading over in the second week of August after the regional band competition; they’d made it past the prefectural level since Sho was, once again, helping out the clarinet section.

“I don’t remember the last time I got to hang out with you like this,” said Nino to Jun, after Sho stopped recording. “I love Nee-chan and your four minions, but it’s been a while since you’ve gone stag.”

Jun chuckled. “There’ll be lots of chances now that these two are back.” He nodded to Sho and Ohno. “We have more stuff to celebrate now, more reason to meet up.”

“Anniversaries, birthdays, deaths—” Nino counted off.

“Oh my God, that is so true,” said Sho. “At some point we’ll be attending each other’s funerals. _Yikes_.”

“Guys, can we focus on the now?” said Aiba, waving his game cards. “Don’t you want to know what Sho-chan’s favourite day of the year is before you think about dying?”

They resumed the game, Ohno beating Nino and Jun 6-5 in the end, winning on the question about which of Sho’s snow globes was his favourite (it wasn’t Nino’s Hokkaido one; Nino took offence).

They ended the evening with beers on the deck outside the tatami room, where Ohno very maturely refrained from making a quip about how it held fond memories for Aiba and Nino, although he did give them knowing smiles when they brought their drinks out.

“Hey, Oh-chan.” Nino slung an arm across Ohno’s shoulders as they stood outside. “No hard feelings about stealing ‘Boehm’ from you, okay?”

Ohno grinned at him and raised his can of beer. “I forgave you when you railed at Sho for not picking my birthday as his favourite day of the year.”

Nino laughed, and bumped their cans together.

“Oh, wow. Look at that.” Aiba pointed at the fireworks going off not too far away. “There’s a festival on tonight.”

“We’re lucky,” said Sho, smiling. “It was raining yesterday, so they moved it to today.”

Jun lowered himself onto the deck. He let out a contented sigh as he lounged back, looking at the sky. “I needed this, you guys. Thanks for having us over.”

Nino looked at Jun, then at Sho and Aiba and Ohno. These were four of his most favourite people to walk the earth, and to have them to himself like this, in this space and time—it was a luxury their home and work lives rarely allowed, now that they’d established their families and careers.

Well, most of them. Nino and Aiba only had the career part.

“Let’s try to do this once a month or something,” said Jun sleepily as he leant against Sho. “Just the five of us.”

Aiba came to stand on Ohno’s other side, nudging him. “That cool with you?”

“As long as we don’t have to play that best friends versus husband game, you guys could _live_ here, and I wouldn't care.”

They all laughed, then toasted each other with their beers, and watched the skies in the distance come alight with starburst sparks and shimmering hues.

***

The following morning, Nino woke up to Aiba landing kisses on his nose.

“Happy anniversary,” said Aiba, grinning.

“It’s not our anniversary.” Nino yawned and rubbed his eyes. “It’s the Ohno-Sakurai anniversary.”

“Yes, but we met at their wedding.”

“Not sure that counts as an anniversary.”

“When is our anniversary, then?”

“I don’t know; do we have one?” Nino grabbed his phone to check for messages. He was expecting a reply from a collaborator that lived in Russia; the email could’ve come late the previous night.

“Yeah, we just sort of _happened_ … There was never a formal ‘please be my boyfriend’ kind of thing, huh?” said Aiba.

“Nope,” said Nino, not looking up from his phone.

A moment passed, then Aiba cleared his throat. “Well, do you want one?”

“Want what?” asked Nino as he typed his reply to the person in Russia.

“An official anniversary.”

Nino looked up from his email and laughed. It was kind of moot to have an anniversary given they were just dating, but he didn’t mind. “Sure,” he opened up his calendar app and started scrolling, “what date shall it be?”

Aiba slid across the mattress to sit beside him and peer at his phone. “Why are you going through last year?”

“Aren’t we trying to figure out when we got together?” Nino tapped his thumb on the screen.

“No…”

“Oh, are you thinking of the day we moved in together?” Nino swiped forward, heading for March.

“No.”

Nino looked up, took in Aiba’s shifty-eyed expression, and suddenly it clicked.

“Are you _proposing_ to me?”

Aiba hesitated, tracing the edge of his upper teeth with the tip of his tongue. “Yes?”

A laugh bubbled out of Nino. “You’re aware this is a really sucky proposal, right?”

Aiba gave Nino’s head a light slap. “Don’t be a prick, I rehearsed so much for this!”

“Doesn’t seem like it!”

“It’s your fault, you know. I can’t pull off proper romantic gestures with you. I thought of tacking the walls with marriage applications filled in with both our names then waiting for you to come home—”

“That’s way better! Why didn’t you?”

“Because you’d laugh at me for being cheesy!”

"I would, but it would’ve made for a far better story than this!”

Aiba caught Nino’s face in his hands and squeezed. “I’ve been trying to come up with a hundred ways of asking you casually for weeks now, but just when I catch the perfect moment you ruin it!”

“You know I’d react this way no matter what,” Nino managed to say through his compressed cheeks.

Aiba released Nino, letting him fall back onto the bed. “Yeah,” Aiba sighed, folding his legs to sit cross-legged, “you’re right.” He hunched dejectedly. “I’ll keep trying until you say yes, though.”

Nino laughed and stretched to pat Aiba’s knee. “I’m sorry I called your proposal sucky.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I know when you’re just taking the piss.”

Nino scooped up his phone and wriggled under Aiba’s arm to lean against him, angling his elbow into Aiba’s lap so they could both look at the screen.

“So." Nino swiped through the dates. "June is nice because it's got my birthday, and allergy season will be over for you. It might rain, but we don’t have to choose an outdoor venue. On the other hand, I'm cool even if we don't have a ceremony—we could just send in the application and that’s that.”

Aiba stared dumbly at Nino.

“Marry me,” said Nino, breaking into a grin.

“You little—” Aiba rushed at Nino, smothering him in a rough hug. “Always wanting to get the last laugh! Always!”

Nino struggled against Aiba’s tackle. “You’re gonna break something if you keep this up.”

Aiba let go, then they were facing each other, Nino on his knees, bouncing slightly on the bed.

“I’d kiss you, but I haven’t brushed my teeth,” said Nino honestly, inching across the sheets towards Aiba.

“That is definitely ew,” said Aiba as he brought his hand to the side of Nino’s neck, bracing his thumb against Nino’s jaw, and they laughed into their kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point in writing 'Quiz Matsumoto' hasn't aired yet. We've only got the teaser. I tried incorporating it, because it's super cute, and because I think Arashi is hilarious when they do quizzes. Nino's yelling is a must.
> 
> Boehm is pronounced 'bem', by the way.
> 
> Nino calls Soo-jung 'Nee-chan' because she's older than him and Jun, not because they're relatives. In Soo-jung's (Korean) culture, younger men call older women 'noona' even when they're not related, which is like 'big sister', and the Japanese version of that would be 'nee-chan'.
> 
> Thanks for reading this weird Sobusen tribute--at least, I hope it's tribute enough. I wrote a gen fic called _In Dreams to Come_ way back in 2008, and I sort of tried to channel that vibe as I wrote this one, with all the fandom references. Also I'm sorry about the pacing--I'm aware it's kinda slow, and the ending sort of charges at you. Haha. This was a lot of fun to write, but I'm glad it's over!!!
> 
> This fic is completely dedicated to celebrating the 'UB' Aiba/Nino track on「untitled」. Yep.


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